Willow
by MinionKomSkaikru
Summary: When Clarke left her people behind, she never expected to be left holding a young child that has a special connection to Lexa. She also never expected such kindness from Lexa's people, but the road to forgiveness is a long one. Kind of a 'love conquers all' fic with a cute kid. Canon until the season 2 finale.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **A massive thank you to my beta, SilverDoe14!**

The evening air feels cold against her face, the slight breeze sending shivers down her back. It's late, too late to still be awake, but Clarke can't bring herself to close her eyes. The guilt that is barely manageable whilst awake feels as though it will eat her alive as she dreams. No, she can't let herself sleep just yet.

She sighs, the puff of air visible in front of her face as she trudges further into the forest. Regret gnaws at her gut as she realizes she is well and truly lost. The determination that had driven Clarkewhen she left her people five days ago has dwindled. And yet, if she could rewind time, she doubts she would have stayed. Actually no, there's no doubt at all. Clarke definitely still would have left. She couldn't stay there after everything she had been forced to do. The blood she had been forced to spill, and the way Jasper had looked at her. He blames her. Clarke blames herself, too, even though there had been no other option to save her people.

Clarke feels anger prickle inside her and she lets herself slump down, sitting on the cold ground with her back against a tree. She's mad. Mad at herself, and mad at the situation. Her people look to her to protect them, and resent her once she has done so. Clarke killed scores of innocent people, even children, to save them and now she has to live with the guilt. Alone. Bellamy may have helped her to pull the lever, but that had merely been symbolic. The decision had already been made, and everyone knows it.

She looks down as something touches her hand, the small bug on her knuckle barely visible in the moonlight. Clarke gently wiggles her fingers, watching as though transfixed as the bug scuttles along her finger. She can't bring herself to kill it or shake it off, merely placing her hand into the dirt until the bug makes its leave. It wanders aimlessly in the mud, no destination in mind.

"I know how you feel, buddy." Clarke winces when her voice cracks. Her throat feels dry, making it painful to swallow. Water. She needs to find water. It's been at least 24 hours since she drank at a small river that she had happened upon, and even longer since she last ate. Her stomach constantly reminds her of this.

With a groan, Clarke forces herself back to her feet. Finding water should be easy enough, but food will be a different matter. She had gotten lucky on her first night away from Camp Jaha, finding berries that she had recognized as edible, but Clarke hasn't seen any more of them since. It's not like she could survive on just berries, anyway. At least her hunt for food will stop her from falling asleep. For now anyway. Another sigh leaves Clarke's mouth as she tries to gain her bearings, her hands resting on her hips as she stares into almost complete darkness. She now has to rely on all of her other senses, at least until the sun comes up.

Walking in the forest in daylight is hard enough, but it's obviously much worse at night and Clarke stumbles every so often as roots catch her feet. She's already exhausted and this isn't helping matters. Her legs soon begin to tire, but she refuses to stop. Her stomach growls angrily, reminding her that she no longer has time to waste. If she's going to survive out here, she needs to start taking it more seriously. The world will soon be plunged into the midst of winter, meaning she needs more than just food and water. She needs to find some kind of shelter, too. And soon.

Clarke doesn't realize how long she has been walking until she notices her surroundings are getting lighter. She's relieved. She's made it through another night. She's escaped another nightmare, at least for now, and Clarke tries not to think about what she'll see when she inevitably falls asleep. For now, she's just fine with having gone 24 hours without seeing the faces of those she has killed. Clarke wonders if the others back at the ark had these nightmares, too. Did they have to see those blistered bodies every night?

Clarke's train of thought is derailed as she suddenly slams to the ground, her hands shooting forward to break her fall. She's acutely aware of the presence behind her, and Clarke curses herself for getting distracted and lost in thought. She's roughly grabbed by the scruff of her neck and a small yelp leaves her mouth. The tree she is slammed up against presses harshly into the back of her head, scraping the sensitive skin of her scalp.

"Just the person I've been looking for," a deep voice growls. Clarke squints and, in the still limited light, she can make out the man's face. Emerson. "The mighty Wanheda," he spits out, and Clarke winces as his putrid breathe washes over her. Her nostrils flare as she glares back at him, trying to show Emerson that she isn't scared of him. It's a lie, of course. She's most definitely scared. He has her trapped and he clearly has a strength advantage.

"What do you want?" Clarke grinds out, hating how her voice cracks.

"Revenge." Clarke isn't at all surprised by his response, but her stomach still drops when she hears it. The knife that he draws from his belt doesn't make her feel any better.

"I was protecting my people," Clarke tells him, her eyes never leaving the blade in his hand. Her words, words that she has used several times in the past, somehow feel foreign and strange to say. Does she even have people anymore? "I didn't have a choice, you and the others made sure of that. I..." Clarke is silenced as Emerson places the knife against her throat, the metal cool against her skin. Her heart races as she stares into his eyes, clearly seeing hate in them. The knife presses further into her throat, the edge breaking the skin.

A loud groan comes from Emerson as he crumples to the floor and Clarke is momentarily shocked. She hadn't even realized she had raised her knee, her body acting on instinct, but it seems to have hit its mark. Her gaze lands on the knife, which is limply hanging from Emerson's hand.

"Bitch." Their eyes lock. Clarke quickly dives forward, lunging towards the man in an attempt to knock the weapon from his hand. Her attempt is futile, though. Emerson anticipates it and roughly shoves her aside, sending Clarke sprawling to the ground again. It knocks the wind out of her, but Clarke still forces herself to stand up and face him. She refuses to be beaten by him. Not like this. A manic grin crosses Emerson's face as he steps forward, using the knife to point at Clarke.

"What's wrong, Wanheda? Scared of a little one on one?" he questions, not missing the confusion on Clarke's face. "That's what they call you now, Clarke. Wanheda, the commander of death," he spits out.

"Who's they?" Clarke immediately curses herself for responding. He's trying to draw her in, distract her just enough so he can make his final move. Emerson sneers at her, but doesn't respond. He moves quickly, almost too quickly, and Clarke only just manages to avoid the knife. He charges again. He's finished playing with her;, he now just wants to finish this. Clarke throws herself down, kicking out at his ankle and sending him to the forest floor. Adrenaline courses through her, gifting her with some extra belief in herself. She dives forward, landing on top of Emerson.

Her weight on top of him takes away some of his size advantage, and Clarke presses her elbow into his throat as she battles for the knife. Her teeth gnash together as she attempts to pry Emerson's fingers from the weapon, but he's relentless. He has to be. Then again, so does Clarke. She shifts her weight forward ever so slightly, applying more pressure to his throat. Clarke desperately wishes she didn't have to take another life, but she once again has no choice. It's her life or his. His eyes are wide, and Clarke can feel his grip loosening from the knife. She has him.

Clarke yelps when she is grabbed from behind, instinctually struggling against the arms that lift her from Emerson. The arms tighten around her as she throws her elbow backwards, connecting with soft flesh. She hears a grunt of pain, but her satisfaction is cut short as she is thrown to the ground yet again. There's a sickening crack as Clarke's head collides with a rock and her world spins. Her eyes roll backwards, and everything goes black.

...

Clarke squints out of half closed lids as she slowly comes to her senses, wincing at the throbbing pain on the side of her head. She tentatively reaches up and ghosts her fingers across the painful area, frowning as she feels some kind of bandage.

It's then that she remembers the events that led to her impromptu nap. Her heart pounds as she takes in her surroundings, realizing she is lying inside a tent that she does not recognize. There's voices coming from outside the tent and she can smell smoke. Clarke is confused. One minute she is fighting for her life against Emerson and an unknown assailant, and the next she is laying on comfortable furs. Wherever she is, and whoever put her there, she seems to be out of danger.

Clarke is suspicious, though. It's hard to trust anyone. She had learned that the hard way. Her mind floods with images of Lexa, and Clarke feels fury flow through her entire body. Lexa's betrayal is still fresh in her mind and Clarke hates how hurt she feels, much preferring to be angry at the commander. It's easier that way.

Clarke forces herself upwards, only making it to her hands and knees before the entire tent seems to spin. She sucks in air, squeezing her eyes closed in an attempt to stop the dizziness. Her head pounds. Her body is begging for her to lie back down, but she has too many questions that need to be answered. Finding out what's going on is more important than more rest. She can rest once she is convinced that it is safe to do so.

Clarke shimmies her body closer to the entrance of the tent, noticing that the voices outside have stopped. Shoving the tent flaps aside, she glares out into the bright sunlight. There's a fire burning not far away from her tent, but there isn't anyone sitting around it. Her gaze lands on a pail of water and she carefully edges her way towards it, not wishing to make any sudden movements.

"Ah! You are awake." Clarke startles when she hears the male voice behind her, her hand pausing above the water. "Use this." The man steps into her line of sight, holding out a wooden cup. Clarke recognizes him as one of Lexa's warriors, but she had never spoken to him. She doesn't know his name.

"Who are you?" Clarke's voice is scratchy and quieter than she had meant for it to be, but the warrior's well trained ears catch her words anyway.

"My name is Storm," he answers easily. "Please, take the cup. It's important to hydrate." Clarke eyes him carefully, taking in his appearance. His tanned skin covers large muscles and his black hair is pulled back into intricate braids. The sheer size of the warrior makes him look like a terrifying force to be reckoned with, but it is his eyes that capture Clarke's attention the most. There's a kindness in his dark eyes that can't be faked.

"Thank you." Clarke allows herself to at least trust him enough to take the cup. She shoves the cup into the pail of cold water, greedily guzzling the liquid down. Storm does not speak as she drinks; he seems content enough to wait until she is finished. He even chuckles slightly as Clarke gasps for air after finishing her second cup in one go. It's clear she had needed this.

"The others will be back soon. They are hunting," Storm says. He holds out a hand to Clarke, helping her to her feet. "Sit by the fire," he instructs. Clarke keeps an eye on him as she moves to sit on one of the logs positioned near the fire. "I apologize for hurting you. I did not realize it was you, Clarke Kom Skaikru." Clarke studies him. His apology seems sincere.

"I'm sorry for elbowing you," Clarke says to him, a miniscule smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Storm grins at her.

"I would have done the same thing." His face suddenly grows serious. "The man from the mountain is no longer a threat to you." Clarke nods, unsurprised that the warriors had killed him. She chews on her bottom lip, looking around at the clearing the grounders have set up camp in. The long grass is flattened in several areas; it's obvious that they use this area a lot.

"Why are you helping me?" Clarke asks, her voice low. "You know we're no longer allies. Why wouldn't you just kill me, too?" Clarke keeps her voice as calm as possible. Storm does not deserve anger. No, that anger is reserved for his commander. His response surprises her,

"Heda wishes for you to live."

Clarke falters, her eyes widening. She stares at Storm, unsure of how to react and attempting to ignore the fact that her stomach drops at his words. Lexa, the woman who betrayed her and abandoned her; is protecting her? Clarke hates that this makes her feel good. She's furious with Lexa, and she's not yet ready to let go of that anger yet.

"She sent you to help me?" Clarke questions, watching Storm carefully.

He shakes his head no. Clarke can't help but frown, realizing that a part of her had kind of enjoyed the fact that Lexa may have sent warriors to help her.

"We are out here executing different orders," Storm explains, "but she did forbid anyone from harming you." Clarke blinks back tears that she had not been expecting. She cares...Lexa cares. Clarke wishes that this piece of information didn't make her feel good, but it does.

"What are your orders?" Storm laughs at her question.

"You are not shy, sky girl. I like that." Despite everything, Clarke shoots Storm a small smile. He's easy to talk to, and Clarke is actually enjoying his company.

"If your orders are just to not harm me, why are you going out of your way to help me like this?" Clarke asks him. "Why not just leave me where you found me?" Storm's bright smile drops, and he scrutinizes Clarke carefully.

"It is not my way," he answers simply. Clarke raises her eyebrows, somewhat surprised by his response. She'd expected him to come out with some shit about doing it for his commander, but his answer comes across as a personal preference. Here is this giant warrior, who had no doubt fought in several battles, who obviously doesn't wish to harm anyone. He seems more like a protector than a fighter, and Clarke wonders why he fights. Is it merely because it is his duty, or does he have his own reasons?

"Thank you." Clarke is sincere. She appreciates what Storm has done for her. Clarke frowns for a second, her curiosity getting the better of her as she turns to face the warrior again. "What are your orders?" she asks for a second time, worrying that she's overstepping.

"Heda was right about you," Storm remarks, yet another grin spreading across his face. Clarke's stomach lurches. Lexa has spoken of her to her people? "You are stubborn. Determined." Clarke wonders if she should be offended, but realizes he is correct. She is both of those things. Storm sighs softly, a small smile still playing on his lips. "We were sent to find someone important. Someone has been working against us and it has put the girl at risk. Heda ordered us to find her first," Storm says.

Clarke tries to ignore the surge of jealousy that bubbles inside of her, but it is damn near impossible. Lexa had ordered her warriors to find another girl. A girl that is not her. Clarke may be mad at Lexa, but it doesn't change the feelings she has for her.

"Who were..." Clarke is cut off by a sudden cry. Her brow creases as she watches Storm jump up and rush towards another tent that she hadn't even noticed until now. She is confused when she recognizes the sound of a baby crying.

Clarke rises to her feet, ignoring the dizziness that returns as soon as she stands. She watches with bated breath as Storm disappears into the tent, a crease forming between her eyebrows. Clarke wants to question Storm, but she realizes that her questions will be answered in just a moment. Still, impatience tugs at her. She doesn't have to wait long, though, as Storm emerges from the tent a few seconds later; a wriggling baby in his arms.

Clarke eyes Storm as he carries the baby towards the fire, noting the soft furs that surrounds her squirming body. Storm sits back down in the same spot he had just vacated, the baby in his lap. She stays quiet, watching Storm as she sits back down. He's murmuring softly to the kid, but he can't seem to calm her.

"I think she's hungry," Storm says. Clarke isn't sure if he is talking to her, or to himself. "Here." Clarke balks when Storm suddenly stands and holds the baby out to her, but she can't think of any reasonable excuse to refuse. Storm must sense how uncomfortable Clarke is as a small, reassuring smile pulls at his lips. "Please, Clarke. Just until I prepare her food." Clarke nods, suddenly feeling very unsure of herself. The only kid she has been around in ages was Charlotte, and Charlotte had been a lot older than the screaming kid that is suddenly thrust into her arms.

Clarke doesn't really know what to do, and she forces herself to try and remember how her mother had treated young patients on the ark. Gently, she starts bouncing the baby on her knee and softly hushes her. She feels stupid, but then validated when the kid buries her face in Clarke's neck.

"You're okay," Clarke murmurs, rubbing the baby's back. "You're okay." It feels so foreign to her to have a young child in her arms, but she does her best to ignore how awkward she feels. One of her hands settle on the back of the kid's head, her fingers softly stroking the baby's dark hair as she holds her close to her.

"You're a natural," Storm says, but Clarke feels like anything but. "Do not worry, I will have her food ready soon," he adds. Clarke watches him prepare, wishing that she could somehow settle the child in her arms. Storm pours water into a metal pot and places the pot onto the fire, ensuring it is stable before he steps away from it. He doesn't look at Clarke or the baby as he starts digging through a sack that sits at his feet.

"What's her name?" Clarke asks, wrapping one arm around the baby's waist; making sure she won't fall from her lap.

"I do not know. Heda only knew of her existence, nothing else." Storm seems disappointed with his answer, as though he wishes he could give a better one. Clarke frowns. A name is the most basic detail you can know about a person, how can they not know this?

"Where are her parents?"

"Dead." Clarke's eyebrows rise at Storm's reply, and she feels sorrow tug at her gut. As much as memories of Clarke's father hurt her, she still at least has a lot of happy memories of him. The poor child will never have that. Clarke wants to ask more questions about the kid's parents, but she doesn't trust herself to stay calm. She can't lose it. Not right now.

"Why does Lexa want her?" Clarke needs some kind of information on the kid she's holding.

"She is special," is Storm's simple response, and Clarke starts to feel frustrated. This child, this innocent child, should not be a pawn in some kind of power play, and Clarke wants some reassurance that she isn't.

"Why?"

"You will land me in trouble, Sky girl." Storm doesn't sound irritated in the slightest, and Clarke is sure that he'd be more than happy to share information with her. It's not up to him, though. She has so many questions, but Clarke doesn't want to keep asking Storm about them. Not when he has been so decent already.

Storm starts placing vegetables into the pot of water, that is now bubbling, and he glances back across at Clarke with a soft smile on his face.

"I am afraid that you will be eating the same as the baby until the others come back," Storm states. "Do not worry, I will not make yours as mushy," he grins. Clarke smiles back at him, adjusting the now slightly calmer baby in her arms.

"I'm so hungry that you could boil a stick and I'd still consider eating," Clarke remarks. This draws a laugh from Storm.

"Perhaps I will." Clarke chuckles softly, shaking her head at the warrior. The movement causes the baby to look up at her, wide green eyes curiously studying Clarke. Clarke smiles. She's relieved that she has been able to calm the child, and a little proud of herself.

"How old is she?" Clarke asks, her eyes staying fixed to the baby.

"She is three seasons old," Storm says. "We have been looking for her since she was born, but her parents did not know who to trust. It was difficult to track them down." Clarke suddenly feels sick to her stomach, and her eyes snap up to glare at Storm.

"Did you...?"

"No," Storm cuts Clarke off. "Her parents were already dead when we came across them," he reassures her. "They hid her and died protecting her. It is lucky that we have some gifted trackers amongst us." Clarke feels herself relax, and almost feels bad for thinking Storm would be responsible. Then again, Clarke has witnessed what grounders are capable of first hand.

They fall into a somewhat tense silence, Storm focusing only on preparing food. Clarke sighs, gazing back down at the child and realizing that she has fallen asleep. She so desperately wants to know why Lexa has seen warriors to find this kid, but she is resigned to the fact that Storm is staying mostly quiet on the subject.

"Heda thinks very highly of you." Clarke is surprised when Storm speaks to her. "She would answer your questions." Clarke's eyes narrow and she shakes her head.

"I don't think I will ever have a chance to ask her," Clarke murmurs, a frown spreading across her face.

"You may come to Polis with us," Storm says. Clarke's frown only deepens at this and she shakes her head again.

"No." Clarke doesn't offer any explanation, but Storm doesn't push her for one. She can tell that he also has questions that need to be answered. His expression makes it obvious that he is curious about the issues that Clarke has with Lexa. He knows it's deeper than anyone has let on.

"Perhaps in time you will change your mind."

"Perhaps." Clarke isn't sure that she will ever change her mind. Seeing Lexa again would just bring all of those feelings back to the surface, making the betrayal hurt even more. Clarke scoffs softly at her thoughts. Those feelings are already at the surface, and she is kidding herself if she thinks otherwise.

Clarke jumps slightly as Storm suddenly leaps to his feet, his eyes locking on something beyond the tree line. He's tense and it makes Clarke tighten her arms around the baby, preparing to protect her. As quickly as Storm had tensed up, he relaxes. A smile spreads across his face and Clarke follows his line of sight, her eyes narrowing slightly at the warrior that is making his way towards them. The new arrival doesn't share Storm's smile, and his gaze hardens when he looks at Clarke.

"Ash," Storm greets him kindly. "You are further out than your usual post," he states. Ash nods, coming to a stop between Clarke and Storm. Clarke stays quiet as she studies his battle worn skin, taking in each scar and noticing several fresh ones.

"I am here for Wanheda." Clarke's heart leaps into her throat and she rises to her feet, jostling the baby ever so slightly and drawing a whine from her. She watches as Ash and Storm argue in Trigedasleng, unable to make much sense of their quick words. Ash is clearly furious about whatever Storm is saying, his fists clenching at his sides.

"No." Storm is serious, his eyes full of fire and his jaw tight. "I will take her."

"Storm?" Clarke stares at him, her features a mix of curiosity and fear. The single word, questioning, draws the attention of both warriors and Clarke refuses to look at Ash; only Storm.

"There is a bounty on your head," Storm says gruffly. "Heda ordered Ash to take you to her. She is unaware that you are with me. It is now out of your hands, sky girl. You will come to Polis with us."

"No," Clarke shakes her head, "I can't. I can't go there. I can protect myself." Storm seems to ignore this, merely turning his attention back to Ash.

"The others are hunting. Find them and inform them of this change." Ash doesn't look at all pleased about being ordered around, but he nods anyway. Clarke follows him with her eyes as he disappears back into the trees. "I'm sorry, sky girl." She turns back to Storm, surprised by the apology and the sorrow in his gaze.

"Let me leave, Storm." Clarke keeps her voice calm, but her eyes are pleading with the warrior. "Just take the baby and let me leave." Even as she says it, she knows it's futile. Even if Storm let her run, the others would find her.

"I cannot go against my Heda. You must come to Polis."

 _ **To be continued...**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _ **Thank you very much for the feedback for chapter 1!**_

 _ **A special thank you to my beta, SilverDoe14, for her help!**_

Clarke doesn't know exactly how long they have been riding through the forest, but it feels like forever. Her entire body aches; her ass and thighs burn from being perched on top of the giant horse for too long. It's her back that causes the most pain, though. The baby strapped across her chest in a rashly made sling causes her to hunch forward. The child is far too heavy to have been strapped to Clarke for this long, but Clarke refuses to let someone else carry her.

Storm had offered several times and Clarke is sure that, if he really wanted to, he could overrule her and just take the child anyway. He doesn't, though, and the other warriors have barely even glanced in their direction. They just merely ride alongside Clarke, ensuring she doesn't try to escape them.

As much as Clarke won't admit it out loud, she's actually relieved that Storm hadn't forcibly taken the baby from her. The baby's warm presence against her chest, whilst causing physical pain, is actually a comfort to her. She doesn't know why, though. Perhaps it's because she knows the child is far too young to be aware of what she has done whilst on earth. There's no judgment from the kid; she purely sees Clarke as the woman who suddenly appeared and offered her comfort.

Just hours ago Clarke had been willing to hand the baby over to Storm and escape, but she's unsure if she would do so again. In less than half a day she has started to feel a form of attachment towards the child, but Clarke doesn't fully understand it yet. It's nice for her to be around someone who isn't judging her, someone whose main interest is grabbing at her hair and snuggling close to her chest. The kid makes her feel like she is finally doing something right.

The kid isn't yelling at her or hating her for her choices. She isn't making her feel evil for pulling the lever at the mountain, and she isn't demanding anything from her. Maybe it's premature to start feeling attached to the baby, but Clarke can't help it. This young, innocent life seems to have started bonding with her and Clarke can't bring herself to stop it. If anything Clarke is encouraging it...relishing it. If she can protect this child from suffering more than she already has in her young life, maybe she'll feel better about her past decisions.

Clarke attempts to stop her thoughts from working overtime, but it doesn't seem to work. She feels the guilt that has been following her since TonDc, and since the mountain. And now, she's starting to feel guilty about the kid strapped to her chest. Clarke feels ridiculous about the guilt that the kid causes, because it's not her fault they don't know her name, but it still feels awful to just keep calling her the kid. It feels like she's stripping the tiny human of her identity.

"Relax, sky girl." Storm's horse is suddenly plodding alongside Clarke's. "You have nothing to fear in Polis." Clarke realizes that Storm has mistakenly assumed that her worried silence is due to fear, and she schools her features before offering a small shrug in response.

"Heda will not hurt you."

Clarke glances at the warrior, her features giving nothing away. _She already has._

She studies him and can easily spot the remorse that is etched on his face. He wishes he did not have to take her to Polis against her wishes, but Storm is loyal to his commander. He always will be, and Clarke can't hold that against him. It's not Storm's fault that Lexa abandoned her at the mountain, and it's not Storm that Clarke wishes to hate. Clarke can't, though. As much as she wants to, she just can't. Not when there is a part of her that aches to see the commander.

"How much longer will this take?" Her impatience is clearly evident in her tone, and Storm frowns. Clarke is confusing him. For someone who had been so desperate to stay away from Polis, Clarke sure seems eager to reach the city. Perhaps she just wishes for this whole ordeal to over as soon as possible.

"We are two days' ride from Polis," Storm says, his gaze casting towards the sleeping child strapped to Clarke's chest. "We will be resting at a nearby village this evening. Heda is meeting us there." Clarke's eyes widen. She had not realized that she would be seeing Lexa so soon, and she is nowhere near ready for it.

"Why?" The question leaves Clarke's mouth before she can stop it, but she is glad that it did. Why would Lexa not just wait for them to arrive? Is the child so special that Lexa needs to personally ensure her safe arrival in Polis?

"I do not question Heda," is Storm's simple response. He's not giving anything away and it infuriates Clarke no end. "We will be stopping soon, Clarke. You and the girl will be able to rest, and bathe." He adds the last part with a grin, clearly attempting to lighten the mood. Clarke can't stop her quiet chuckle, knowing his dig at her hygiene is well founded and that she really does need to wash.

"A bath would certainly be a good idea," Clarke says. "And clean clothes?" Storm smiles at her question.

"There will be clean clothes at the village, Sky Girl."

They fall into an easy silence. Despite Clarke's internal battle, she feels kind of relaxed around Storm. Safe, even. He seems genuine with a good heart, and a desire to have those around him in high spirits. The others, however, clearly aren't interested in even glancing at Clarke. It's obvious that they are merely fulfilling the orders given by their commander; no more, no less. Especially Ash, who still looks furious about Storm essentially hijacking his orders. He doesn't even make eye contact with Storm when he grumbles something about his horse needing to rest.

"We're stopping?" Clarke asks Storm, letting out a disappointed sigh.

"Only for a short while," Storm reassures her. "The horses need to drink and rest a bit." Clarke can't exactly argue with the warrior, it's only right that the horses are looked after properly. She nods, and Storm shoots her a smile. "We'll be on our way again soon."

Storm reaches over to Clarke's horse, still perched on his own one, and tugs at the reins. The horse easily complies, allowing itself to be guided off of the beaten path. Clarke glances down at the child, checking she is okay, as she lets the horse carry them towards a river. The child is awake now, but she seems content; perhaps comforted by the warm body she is strapped to. The tiny girl doesn't stay content for long, though. No, she is not at all impressed when Clarke suddenly passes her down to Storm.

"Do not worry, little one," Storm murmurs. "Clarke is right there." Clarke smiles at his soft tone as she clambers down from the horse, rolling her eyes at how ungraceful she is. Storm passes the baby back to Clarke quickly, completely aware of the fact that an unhappy child is a loud child.

"I got you," Clarke says, noting that the child calms down as soon as she is in her arms. It's nice. It's not often that her presence is a comfort to someone; she's usually just an emotional punching bag... someone to blame. Clarke carries the child towards the river and sits down on the grassy bank, making sure to keep some space between her and the drinking horses.

Storm slumps down next to Clarke and the baby, his kind eyes fixed on the child. He seems completely enamored with her, and Clarke doesn't blame him. This adorable child, with her dark curls and bright green eyes, had already worked her way into Clarke's heart. Even after only half a day.

"You are good with her," Storm says. "She seems very attached to you," he adds. Clarke nods. The feeling is mutual. She grins when the kid grabs onto her chin, tiny fingers prodding at Clarke's face. Without even realizing it, Clarke pretends to bite the child's hands and draws an adorable giggle from her. Clarke doesn't mean to let her guard down and show her softer side, but the child seems to have quickly become a master at pulling her walls down.

"She needs a name," Clarke says to Storm. "It seems strange that we don't know her name." Storm meets her gaze and he nods, agreeing with her. She waits for him to say something, to decide on some kind of name for the kid; but none comes. Instead, Storm stares at Clarke expectantly...clearly waiting for Clarke to suggest a name.

Clarke sighs, looking all around at the area they have stopped. Trees...grumpy warriors...a whole lot of grass...a whole lot of water...nothing to inspire a name for the baby. Her eyes land on the plants that litter the edge of the river, and she smiles. Clarke looks at Storm, then back to the willow reeds. Storm follows her line of sight and he grins.

"Willow?"

"It suits her, don't you think?" Clarke asks, looking back down at the baby on her lap. The kid grins up at her, and Clarke realizes for the first time that she has a few teeth. It's perhaps the cutest smile Clarke has ever witnessed.

"Willow is a good name," Storm nods.

Clarke wonders if she will regret allowing herself to get close to this child...Willow. She doesn't even know if she will see her again after they reach Polis, but something inside Clarke tells her that she'd be willing to fight anyone who stopped her from seeing the kid. There's just something about Willow that makes Clarke want to protect her. To hide her from the horrors that surround them.

"It's a perfect name," Clarke tells Storm. The warrior seems surprised by the sudden animosity in Clarke's voice?, but it only takes him a short moment to understand it.

"No one wishes to take her from you, Clarke."

...

Clarke is relieved when the warriors in front of her slow their horses and she catches sight of a small village. Her body aches even more than it had before their brief stop at the river, and she's glad that she has a chance to rest properly. On top of the pain caused by riding the horse and carrying Willow, her head still throbs from its earlier injury. Perhaps the healer that has been riding with them can offer some help with that. God knows Clarke needs it. A brief touch to the back of her head tells her that the blood has still been kept at bay, but she wonders if she needs stitches. Would the healer even know how to stitch it up?

Clarke rolls her eyes at her thoughts. Of course the healer would know how to do that. How else would Lexa's warriors recover from war wounds? It's so easy to forget that the grounders had survived almost a hundred years in these circumstances. They've had to survive the outcome of a nuclear war; of course their healers are talented.

"Move, Wanheda." Clarke winces at the name, but she tries to hide it from Ash. The commander of death...is that really her legacy? Clarke is reluctant to pass Willow down to Ash, she doesn't trust him, but there's no way she can climb off the horse with Willow still strapped to her chest.

"I can take Clarke to her tent," Storm says as Clarke's feet hit the muddy ground. She's grateful that Storm has used her proper name, Wanheda sounds too brutal in her mind. It reminds her of everything she has had to do...things she'd rather not think about. "Follow me, Clarke." Clarke throws Ash a sour look as she takes Willow back into her arms, following Storm through the trees.

They are silent as they walk towards the camp, trudging past a group of horses at the edge of the small settlement. Clarke's heart thumps wildly in her chest when they pass a majestic white horse, knowing all too well who the animal belongs to. She looks all around the village, taking in the small homes of the local grounders. Not one clay hut or shack looks like the other, most of them built with scrap metal or wood. They're not aesthetically pleasing, but all of the buildings look solid and clearly offer decent protection from the elements.

There are several tents dotted around the village, and they're in stark contrast with the more permanent homes. Clarke assumes they are for Lexa and her warriors, and she knows exactly which tent belongs to Lexa. She tears her eyes away from it, as though afraid that Lexa will step outside and meet her gaze.

"Do you need to take her yet?" Clarke asks Storm, jerking her head downwards towards Willow.

"Not yet," Storm says, smiling reassuringly. "I will take you to where you can rest before I speak with Heda." Storm's smile drops and his features are suddenly serious. "Please do not try to leave, Clarke. My people are all around; they have orders to keep you here."

"I won't." Clarke is surprised by her own sincerity, and she tries to convince herself that it is only because of Willow. Deep down, though, Clarke knows that Willow isn't the only thing keeping her here.

"I'm glad to hear that, Clarke. It may not feel like it, but you are with us for your own safety."

Storm doesn't say anything else as he leads Clarke to one of the tents, merely gesturing for Clarke to step inside. He offers her a serious look before he steps away, and the message is clear; stay put. She waits until he leaves before she steps into the tent, her eyes widening slightly. Even for a temporary accommodation, the inside of the tent screams of grandeur. From the cot covered with lavish furs, to the clearly handcrafted table dotted with candles, to the intricate designs carved into the chairs...it's clear that someone had used a great deal of care to create the small living area.

The drapes that hang from the roof of the tent, separating the sleeping area from the bathing area, look like they were once expensive and sought after. Hell, even the copper bathtub looks grander than Clarke has ever seen. Willow wriggles slightly in her arms as Clarke looks around the bathing area. There is, of course, no running water and Clarke isn't entirely sure about how to go about filling the tub. She guesses that she would need to boil water on the fire outside, making several trips back and forth to even half fill it. That sounds far too strenuous right now.

"Maybe later," Clarke softly says to Willow, gently rubbing the baby's back as she walks across to the large cot. "Looks like you'll need to share with me, little one," Clarke murmurs, noticing that there is nothing remotely close to a crib in the tent. Perhaps the only detail that hasn't been taken care of.

She gently places Willow amongst the furs on the bed, making sure to tuck her in as much as she can to stop her from rolling out of bed. Willow whines for a few moments, her tiny brow creasing as she stares up at Clarke. It's clear that Willow would have preferred to stay in Clarke's arms. Clarke softly hushing her as she uses her thumb to stroke Willow's cheek.

"Go to sleep, little one," Clarke murmurs. "We can hang out once you've had some rest." Clarke is tempted to crawl under the furs herself, but she's far too amped up to sleep right now. She needs to find someone to check her head, and find more food. Sleep can wait a little longer...her horrific nightmares can wait a little longer. She perches herself on the edge of the bed, unwilling to leave Willow whilst she is still awake.

Willow, even at only around? 9 months old, seems to have a stubborn streak inside of her. The kid seems much more interested in babbling incoherently to Clarke and reaching out to her with a chubby hand. It's unfortunate for Willow that Clarke is much more stubborn than she is, her newfound caretaker just tucking her in over and over until her little body is too tired to keep fighting. The sudden sound of rain rhythmically hitting the roof of the tent seems to further soothe Willow towards sleep.

Clarke smiles softly as she watches Willow's eyes flutter closed, the excitement of the day finally catching up with her. She looks even tinier wrapped up in the furs, and Clarke feels her heart clench. This innocent child should not be a target for anything but love. She should not have to be rescued and hidden away. Clarke finds herself promising that she will do all she can to protect her.

Clarke ensures Willow is warm and asleep before she steps out of the tent. She vows not to wander too far from the tent, making sure that she is nearby should Willow need her. The cold rain is refreshing to Clarke, though, and she tilts her head up to the sky, letting the rain sprinkle her face. She wishes it would rain more.

Her eyes scan the village, noting that it is much smaller than TonDC. Clarke blinks back sudden tears at the thought of the village, guilt bubbling inside her. She still regrets not warning them about the missile, and the aftermath of it replays in her mind. Clarke doesn't think she will ever stop feeling guilty about the lives that were lost that night.

The village is quiet, only a handful of warriors visible to Clarke as they stand guard. She assumes most people have retired for the evening, taking shelter from the wind and rain. Most of the guards are outside one particular tent, and Clarke knows exactly who is inside. Lexa. Her stomach lurches. She has a nagging desire to storm over there and tell Lexa exactly what she thinks of her. She wants to scream at her, and throw things, and spit in her face. She wants to hate her...but she can't.

No. No matter how much Clarke wishes to hate Lexa, she knows she never will. The commander has already wormed her way into Clarke's heart. It's why the betrayal hurts her so damn much, and why it feels like she might never fully forgive Lexa. Even if a part of her understands why Lexa did it.

"Sky girl." Clarke whips her head around when she recognizes the voice calling for her. It's Ash, and he looks even less pleased than he had when Clarke was last with him. "For you." The warrior thrusts a small sack into Clarke's hands. "Heda will come and speak with you soon." With that, Ash stalks away from her. It kind of amuses Clarke that he seems to dislike her so much. Her smile fades once it registers in her mind that Lexa will be coming to speak with her.

She's not ready.

Clarke stares at Ash's retreating form, watching him as he walks back to Lexa's tent. Her heart hammers a frantic beat against her rib cage and her eyes burn with unwanted tears. Lexa. She'll be seeing Lexa soon. Clarke knew this moment would come, but she's still so unprepared for it. How is she supposed to face the woman who had hurt her so badly? Would she be expected to forgive her? No... no, Lexa wouldn't expect that from her. Clarke has witnessed a few small moments of the commander's softer side, and she doubts that Lexa expects even a smile from her.

A sudden crack of thunder drags Clarke out of her thoughts, and she realizes that the rain has completely soaked through her clothes. She roots through the sack that's filled with food packages, clothes, and what looks like scraps of extra material. It takes Clarke a moment to realize that they're cloth diapers, and she shakes her head at herself for not even thinking about that.

Clarke wanders back into the tent, reminding herself to be quiet so as to not wake Willow, and she dumps the sack onto the table. She pulls the food packages out and sits down on the chair, her stomach growling when the glorious aroma of the food hits her nostrils. The strips of meat, that Clarke doesn't even know what animal they came from, smells amazing and the berries are the juiciest she's ever eaten. Clarke is careful to leave some of the softer food for Willow, though.

She eats more than she's eaten in a long time, but Clarke is smart enough to know not to overeat. She doesn't want to make herself sick. Leaning back in the chair, Clarke once again surveys the inside of the tent and her eyes linger on the tub. She longs to bathe and feel clean, but she still doesn't know what she should do to fill it up. Besides, Clarke would much rather be fully dressed whenever Lexa sends one of the warriors for her.

A small whimper pulls Clarke's attention over to the bed, and she's concerned for a small moment. She relaxes, though, as she watches Willow wriggle into a more comfortable sleeping position, her little eyelids fluttering. Clarke doesn't move; she's too scared of waking the baby up completely. It takes a few moments, but Willow settles down again and falls back into a deep sleep. Clarke smiles at the way Willow sucks on her thumb, her other chubby hand settling on the side of her head.

"May I come inside, Clarke?" Clarke jumps, surprised, and her head whips around to face Storm. His large frame takes up most of the opening of the tent and he's holding onto two steaming cups of some kind of liquid.

"Sure." Clarke finds it so strange that he asked for permission, especially after she had been forced here against her will. She appreciates it all the same, though.

"Tea," Storm says as he sits down on the other chair, sliding one of the cups towards Clarke. "It will give you more energy."

"Thank you." Clarke takes a tentative sip of the hot drink, letting out an appreciative moan without even meaning to. There's a slight bitterness to the tea, but it's unlike anything else she has ever tasted. Perhaps, if the circumstances were different, Clarke would ask Storm to teach her how to make the tea.

"I will take you to Heda once you have finished your tea," Storm says. "She is sending someone to take care of Willow while you're gone. They will also prepare the bathing tub for you," Storm adds, a knowing smile playing on his lips. His amusement doesn't register with Clarke, though. She is much too busy thinking about her impending reunion with Lexa, her somersaulting stomach making it impossible for her to drink anymore of the tea.

Clarke has had plenty of warning, but it doesn't feel real. How is she supposed to face Lexa? What is she supposed to say? How does she control the anger that she harbors for the commander of the 12 clans? How will Lexa act towards her? Storm has told her several times that she does not wish to harm her, but the Lexa she knows is not opposed to changing her mind.

"Clarke?" Storm's concerned voice rips Clarke from her thoughts, and Clarke realizes that her breathing is erratic. "Relax. You have nothing to worry about. I promise. Eden here has a lot of experience with babies." It's only then that Clarke notices the woman hovering beside the opening of the tent.

She's young, easily a few years younger than Clarke. Her mousy hair almost reaches the back of her thighs, no braids in sight. Eden's eyes seem to have an innocent quality to them, it's clear she does not fight alongside Lexa and the warriors. It's nice to see such innocence amongst the grounders...it's reassuring.

Clarke is unsure that she wants to leave Willow with this child. She isn't convinced that Eden can protect Willow if something happens. Not that Clarke actually has a choice, though.

"Doesn't Lexa want to see Willow?" Clarke asks Storm. She's stalling, and it's obvious.

"Heda is content knowing that she is here and being well looked after. It's best not to keep her waiting," Storm says. Clarke notices that the warrior looks nervous, but she is unsure why. He has completed the task Lexa set for him and has also ensured that Ash's task is complete, too. She and Willow are here.

"Okay." Clarke sounds much more confident than she feels. She squares her shoulders and sets her jaw, determined not to show any sign of weakness. Her strides are steady as she follows Storm from the tent, her head held high during their tiny journey to Lexa's tent. Storm stops outside of his commander's tent, speaking quietly in his native language to the guards posted outside.

It unnerves her when they stare at her, giving her a once over. Clarke's hand unconsciously touches the bandage on the back of her head, and she realizes that she is still to have her wound checked properly. She doesn't miss the fact that Storm looks even more nervous now, his gaze lingering on the bandage.

"You were to be brought here unharmed," Storm murmurs. Clarke realizes this is the cause of his nerves, and she hopes Lexa will not be too hard on him. "Heda is not aware of your injury." He looks ashamed of himself and Clarke feels bad for him. She is not upset with Storm for hurting her; she knows it was somewhat unavoidable given the circumstances. His demeanor tells Clarke that Lexa may feel differently, though.

It makes her insides clench, but it confuses her at the same time. Lexa had abandoned her at the mountain, pretty much left her people to die, but now she's possibly furious about someone harming her. Clarke's curiosity is overwhelming; it's almost enough to overpower her desire to run as away from this situation as she can. Almost. She sucks in a deep breath, weakly attempting to mentally prepare herself for this meeting. It's silly, though. Nothing could prepare her for this.

"Clarke?" She turns her attention back to Storm. "It's time."

 _ **To be continued...**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **Thank you for all of the great feedback so far!**

Green. That's the first thing she notices. Those intense green eyes that she hadn't realized just how much she had missed until she stares right into them. They're staring right back at her, surrounded by dark war paint, and full of emotion. The owner of those eyes is sitting rigidly on her throne and the rest of her face is impassive, stoic even, but those eyes... those eyes, they hide nothing. Concern, compassion, curiosity. Clarke can read it all, and her heart hammers inside her chest.

There is silence for only a moment, but it feels like forever, and Clarke's pulse works overtime. Indra, who stands to the left of Lexa's throne, doesn't take her eyes off of her. Her hand rests on the handle of her sword, ready for any kind of action from Clarke. Time stands still, green eyes still locked on blue, her posture perfect.

Then, she moves. She gracefully stands, her hand lifting to tell Indra to remain where she is. Lexa's eyes roam over Clarke's body, searching for injuries as she closes the gap between herself and Clarke. Her gaze lands on the bandage peeking around from the base of Clarke's skull, and her nostrils flare. It's a subtle tell; Lexa's furious.

"I told you to bring her to me unharmed." Lexa's voice is low and dangerous, her eyes flitting to Ash where he stands behind Clarke.

"She was already hurt when I got to her, Heda," Ash says, his tone respectful. His words imply that someone else hurt Clarke, and Lexa doesn't miss this, her attention turning to Storm.

"I apologize, Heda. I did not know about Wanheda when I found her," Storm tells Lexa. Lexa's eyes narrow ever so slightly as she stares at her trusted warrior. Lexa's features relax almost as quickly as they'd hardened, and it's clear that she accepts Storm's explanation. He has never given her any reason to doubt him.

Lexa has yet to speak to Clarke and the tension in the room grows. Clarke grinds her teeth as Lexa speaks to her warriors in their native tongue, Clarke only able to understand a few words. She hears her name, though, and she wishes they would speak in English if they are going to discuss her. What she doesn't know is that Lexa and the men are discussing plans to keep her safe, but Clarke is in no mood to let that thought enter her mind.

Clarke feels herself grow furious. Seeing Lexa again, against her will, and then being spoken of as though she isn't there infuriates her. Just hearing Lexa's voice and standing so close to her brings back everything that happened at the mountain. Her anger builds, blood rushing in her ears and her hands stiffly clenched by her sides.

"Clarke." She hears Lexa's voice, recognizing the way the K seems to click in her mouth. Her name always sounds so different when said by Lexa, and it used to make Clarke feel special. Lexa is speaking to her, but Clarke doesn't hear what Lexa is saying, she doesn't want to, and she focuses entirely on glaring lasers at Lexa. Then she hears it, "I need you," and something explodes inside of her.

The spit lands on Lexa's face before Clarke can even register that she has done it. Something takes over inside her, and Clarke is being restrained by Storm, screaming abuse at Lexa and threatening to kill her. Lexa looks surprised for only a second before the stoic mask is back in its rightful place, her hand swiping at the spit on her cheek. She gazes upon the screaming, struggling Clarke for a few moments before nodding to Storm.

Clarke is removed from her tent, but Lexa can still hear her. Most of the village probably hears her, too. Lexa is glad that nobody would dare to question her about this situation as she has no explanation for them. She sighs through her nose and stalks back to her throne, one long leg crossing over the other. Lexa waves Indra away, snapping at her to keep anyone from entering her tent.

Once alone, Lexa pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Her eyes are squeezed closed and her lips press tightly together as she attempts to control her emotions. She refuses to let her warriors see her like this, to see how Clarke affects her. It hurts that Clarke is still so disgusted, but Lexa isn't surprised. Not at all. She only hopes that she can get through to her, to make her understand why she did what she did.

If Lexa could go back in time, back to the mountain, she would not have made a different decision. There had been no other option. She has a duty to protect her people, and her feelings for Clarke cannot come before their safety. No, she doesn't regret her decision, but she hates that it caused Clarke pain.

Lexa wonders if Clarke will ever understand the decision she made. Clarke seems to hate her for leaving her behind at the mountain, and sacrificing Clarke's people in exchange for the safe return of her own people. Lexa knows that her decision led to Clarke making a similar one that very night. Clarke had sacrificed the mountain people who had helped them, had let radiation burn the flesh from their bodies to ensure the safety of her people.

Lexa respects Clarke's decision, but she knows Clarke well enough to know that she has suffered since then. Clarke is strong, and loyal, and a good leader, but she's lived a life much different from Lexa's. This is all very new to Clarke, whereas Lexa has spent her whole life preparing for moments like that. Clarke, however, had been thrown into the deep end.

Lexa has thought about this several times since she returned from the mountain...has thought about Clarke several times. She cares for her much more than she thinks she will ever admit to her people, but she's scared. Yes, Heda gets scared, too, and Clarke is the person who brings it out the most. If Lexa didn't hold the title of Heda, she would have stood by Clarke's side and fought to the death to protect her. But she does. She _is_ Heda, and her actions must always compliment that title.

It, fear, is another thing Lexa will always try to hide from her warriors. If she is to lead them into battle, how can they trust her if she is afraid? They need their leader to lack fear and weakness; they do not wish to be led by a love struck young woman whose main focus is the girl from the sky.

No. They need someone whose main focus is the safety of the people within the 12 clans. That's who Lexa is. It's why she is celebrated when she returns home to Polis; it's why people bow before her. No matter how much Lexa cares for Clarke, her people must come first. Luckily, Lexa's plan for the future includes making Clarke's people her people, too.

...

Clarke rips her arm out of Storm's grip as he marches her to the outskirts of the village, her anger reverberating throughout her body. There's a small crowd gathering, but she doesn't care. She's furious with Lexa and Clarke doesn't care who knows it. She can hear Storm urging her further into the trees and away from the village, but his voice sounds far away. The only thing she can really hear is the blood that pounds in her ears.

Her boots flatten the grass under her feet as she marches further into the forest, a frustrated yell leaving her mouth as she kicks out at nothing in particular. Birds scatter at the sound, flying away from the treetops they had been perched upon. Clarke doesn't even flinch when one whizzes by her, far too close to her head for comfort. No, she's far too pissed off to think of anything but Lexa.

Lexa. Clarke huffs, picking up a nearby stone and launching it towards a random tree. Fucking Lexa. Another stone flies through the air, making a satisfyingly loud crack as it collides with a tree. She's vaguely aware of Storm standing a mere few feet behind her, and she's glad that he doesn't seem interested in stopping her. He seems to be allowing her to vent, perhaps hoping it will allow Clarke to calm down.

His hopes are proving to be worthwhile, and Clarke hates that she can feel her anger lose its momentum. She gives up throwing stones and slumps down against a tree, the wet ground instantly soaking the seat of her pants. Clarke is aware that she may look petulant, sitting there with her arms folded across her chest and a pout clearly visible on her face. Yes, her fury has calmed and now she just feels downright miserable.

Seeing Lexa again had been worse than Clarke imagined. The anger, the hurt, the sadness, all mixing like some kind of dangerous concoction inside of her. It just so happened that the anger had been the one to break free to the surface, and Clarke definitely hadn't been shy about showing it. Clarke sighs, scrubbing her face with her hands and wiping away the tears that had leaked from her eyes without her permission.

She's exhausted, and her head is still throbbing. Just thinking about her injury reminds of Lexa's reaction. The commander had looked downright furious about her being harmed, Clarke remembers. She groans. It's confusing. She's so angry at Lexa, and so hurt, but that one thought seems to calm her down a little more. It's obvious that Lexa cares, and Clarke hates that this makes her happy. She doesn't want to care about Lexa about caring, but she does.

"Have you finished scaring the birds?" Storm asks her, causing Clarke to jump ever so slightly. She had forgotten that he was still with her, but of course he is still there.

Clarke sighs heavily, nodding. She's glad that Storm brought her here, away from the village and away from Lexa. She has been able to let her frustrations out without scaring Willow in the process. She sighs again...Willow. Clarke doesn't know what's going to happen now. How is she supposed to take care of Willow and be there for her now that Lexa is around? She still doesn't even know why Lexa wanted the kid to be brought here, nor does she understand why she's been allowed to bond with her.

Clarke wonders if she's going to regret getting close to Willow. Especially now that she tried to attack Lexa... will she even be trusted with Willow anymore? Will there be some kind of punishment for what she did to Lexa?

No. Clarke shakes that thought from her head. Whilst most people would suffer for attacking the commander, Clarke is sure that Lexa wouldn't do that to her. She had seen pain in those green eyes. Concern, too. There's no way Lexa would wish to hurt her. Not physically, at least. And mentally? Well, that is something Lexa has already done.

"What happens now?" Clarke asks, gazing up at Storm. She's surprised to see kindness in his eyes. He doesn't seem to be judging her for her actions in Lexa's tent in the slightest. Clarke can easily see the sympathy that is etched on Storm's features, but there's definitely not one ounce of judgment there. It's reassuring.

"Now," Storm says, holding out his hand to Clarke and easily pulling her to her feet, "we go back to Willow."

"Really?"

"Yes, Clarke. Heda will be there, too." Clarke freezes, her feet refusing to move her forward. Clarke shakes her head. There's no way she can see Lexa again right now. She has only just regained some semblance of control over her emotions, and it doesn't make sense that Lexa or her warriors would wish for them to be in the same tent again so soon after the last time.

"I'll stay here," Clarke says. Her voice sounds much more confident than she feels, but she can tell instantly that it makes no difference. Storm pulls an apologetic face, his lips pulled to one side as he shrugs.

"I'm afraid not, Clarke," Storm says. "I'm sorry to force you, but the decision is not mine. Please come easily; I do not wish to carry you, but I will if you do not walk with me."

Clarke stares at Storm, shocked by his statement. She can tell that he means every single word, but she can also tell that Storm feels awkward about it. He truly does not wish to force Clarke to go anywhere against her will, but he is Heda's warrior and her word is law.

"Fine." To say that Clarke is unhappy about this would be a major understatement, but she has no choice. Storm could, and would, easily overpower her and Clarke would much rather face Lexa on her own two feet. There's nothing dignified about being dragged somewhere whilst kicking and screaming, especially not twice in one day.

She glares down at the ground and steps forward, letting Storm know that she will comply with his request. The forest floor is subjected to Clarke's disgruntled stare as she trudges back to the village, Storm right by her side. He keeps glancing sideways at her, ensuring Clarke doesn't attempt to run. It'd be futile, though. The warriors hidden in the trees would stop Clarke before she even decided which direction to run in.

Clarke suddenly wishes she had stormed further into the forest earlier, as the village comes back into sight much too quickly for her liking. Her heart pounds as her own tent comes into view, her eyebrows furrowing as soon as she notices Lexa's guards outside. Lexa is already with Willow.

"Do not attempt to attack Heda again," Storm warns Clarke. "She wishes you no harm; you should extend the same courtesy." Clarke offers Storm a stiff nod in response, not trusting herself to speak right now as she feels saliva suddenly flood her mouth. Clarke knows that that means.

She drops to her knees, emptying her stomach into the long grass. If she didn't feel completely gross before this, she certainly does now. Storm moves forward to help her, but Clarke waves him away, aware of how weak she looks. She needs to be more careful. Clarke knows she isn't weak, and she really doesn't want anyone to think that she is.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, grimacing at the sour taste that lingers on her tongue.

"I'm ready," Clarke says, forcing herself back to her feet. She can't put this off any longer. She forces herself to stand as straight as possible, squaring her shoulders and attempting to mentally prepare herself. It doesn't seem to make a damn bit of difference, though. She may look ready to face Lexa again, as she continues trudging towards the tent, but she's not. One thing Clarke can do, though, is pretend.

Clarke stops outside the tent, glancing at Storm as he speaks to the guards outside in Trigedasleng. Whatever it is that the guards are saying to him, it seems to confuse him.

"Storm?" Clarke studies Storm carefully, hating how frustrated he now seems.

"You are to go alone," Storm says, huffing loudly. "Heda wishes to speak privately with you." Clarke understands why he doesn't like this idea. It makes no sense. Why would Lexa wish to be alone with the person who just threatened to kill her? Perhaps Lexa trusts her fighting skills enough to know that Clarke is no true threat to her safety. Especially when Clarke is unarmed. "Please remember what I said, Sky Girl," Storm says, his voice low.

"I'm calm," Clarke assures him. It's a lie, she's not calm at all, but she's no longer furious. She just feels like a miserable, heartbroken mess. Storm watches her carefully for a moment, waiting until Clarke meets his gaze. His dark eyes are piercing and Clarke can see the pleading inside them. He's silently begging her not to do anything stupid. His duty to protect Lexa will come before the tentative friendship that he and Clarke seem to be building.

Clarke gives him a stiff nod before she spins herself around to face the opening of the tent, sucking in a deep breath. Storm and the guards are watching her; she can feel their eyes on the back of her head. Clarke closes her eyes for a second, taking another deep breath as she prays that her stomach won't betray her again. She groans to herself and sets her jaw, it's now or never.

Stepping forward, Clarke freezes in the entrance of the tent, her heart jumping straight into her throat. Lexa has her back to her, the commander standing over the bed as she and Willow silently examine each other. Willow's eyes are wide and inquisitive, her head cocked to the side as she stares up at this new person.

"You have looked after her well, Clarke." Clarke feels mildly embarrassed that Lexa has caught her staring, and her breath hitches when Lexa whirls around to face her. "Do you feel better?" Clarke doesn't respond to Lexa's question, merely rolling her eyes and looking away from the commander.

Instead, Clarke looks towards Willow. She doesn't miss the fact that Willow's face lights up at the sight of her, nor does she miss the chubby arms that shoot out towards her, but Clarke doesn't react. She's not even sure why, but a voice in the back of her mind tells Clarke to stay put.

"The child wishes for you to hold her," Lexa says. Lexa is confused when Clarke still doesn't step forward. Her warriors had told her that Clarke had grown attached to the child. "You do not wish to hold her?" Lexa asks her, stepping away from the bed. Lexa clasps her hands behind her back and studies Clarke through narrowed eyes.

"There's no need for me to comfort her now," Clarke tells Lexa. "She has you." There's a bitterness in Clarke's voice that she hasn't heard from herself before. Lexa catches that, too.

"You do not have an attachment towards the child? I was told..."

"You were told wrong!" Clarke snaps, cutting Lexa off. She watches as Lexa sighs sharply through her nose, her eyes narrowing again. It's subtle, but it's a reaction nonetheless, and Clarke loves that she has been able to draw one from her. Lexa grows silent for a few moments, seemingly content to just study Clarke. Clarke is desperate to break the eye contact between them, but she doesn't. No matter how much Lexa's piercing gaze unnerves her.

"You're lying, Clarke," Lexa finally speaks again. "You care for the child, I know you do."

"I kept her safe because it guaranteed my safety, too," Clarke lies, squaring her shoulders. "I can't trust you, which means I can't trust your warriors. Taking the kid off of their hands meant they wouldn't harm me."

Clarke doesn't want Lexa to know how she truly feels about Willow. Lexa had taught her that love was weakness, that people will harm those you love just to hurt you. She doesn't know if she can trust Lexa again, and she sure as hell doesn't want Lexa to know what her weaknesses are.

"You named her, did you not?"

Clarke huffs, looking away from Lexa. "You do not need to lie to me, Clarke. I brought you here to protect you." Clarke's eyes snap back up, and she glares at Lexa.

"Do you know when I could have used your protection?" Clarke's acidic tone doesn't surprise Lexa, she knows exactly what Clarke is about to say to her. "When you abandoned me at Mt. Weather." Clarke doesn't disappoint her.

"I did what I thought..." Once again, Lexa is unable to finish her sentence.

"I don't want to hear it," Clarke says. "I don't want to see you, and I don't want to hear your excuses. I'd like you to leave me alone." Her voice is deadly calm, and Clarke has even surprised herself. What surprises her more, though, is Lexa's tiny nod. Lexa looks less than pleased, her jaw stiff and her nostrils ever so slightly flared, but she complies.

"As you wish. I will send Eden back to assist you with bathing and checking your wound." Lexa closes the gap between herself and Clarke, staring into Clarke's eyes for a small moment. The conflict in Lexa's eyes causes Clarke's heart to ache, but she offers no kindness. She's not ready to forgive Lexa... not yet.

Clarke breaks their intense eye contact, choosing to stare down at her boots until Lexa moves away from her. She doesn't even look up when Lexa pauses in the doorway.

"Thank you for helping my cousin, Clarke."

Clarke quickly turns on her heel at this, but Lexa is already gone. Her cousin? Lexa had never mentioned any existing family members before, and Clarke had always assumed it was because she had none.

Clarke thinks of Willow's poor parents...Lexa's relatives. It's too heartbreaking to think about. Clarke knows how it feels to have very few family(?) members, and she also knows how it feels when one of them is cruelly taken away.

Tears that Clarke has been holding back slip down her cheeks, and she does nothing to stop them from falling. She moves across to the bed and lifts Willow into her arms, murmuring soft apologies into the child's hair. In the back of her mind Clarke knows that Willow doesn't even know what Clarke said, but she feels guilty all the same.

Perhaps one day Clarke will no longer feel so much guilt, and perhaps she will forgive herself for the things she has been forced to do. Maybe someday.

 **If you have any questions, come find me at MinionKomSkaikru on Tumblr :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **Thank you to my SilverDoe14!**

Lexa didn't cry when she was told of her uncle's death. She had merely nodded, acknowledging the warrior's words, and sent him away. The news had saddened her, but she had only ever met him twice and that had been a long time ago. Both times had been before Lexa turned 5, the age she was taken from her family and sent to train with the other night-bloods. He had been kind, but quiet; much like Lexa's father.

She can't afford to seem weak, and shedding tears over a near stranger would certainly give her warriors that impression. She's not heartless, though, as she knows many people seem to think. No, her heart is most definitely there and it holds the scars of past pain and losses.

The parents she left behind, that were killed in battle soon after her departure. Costia, the woman who had stolen her heart despite her reluctance to give it away. Anya, the mentor who helped shape her into the woman she is today. Yes, Lexa has a heart and it has known great pain.

It is open to even more pain now. She watches Clarke purposely avoid her gaze as Clarke joins Lexa and her warriors at the edge of the village. Clarke looks cleaner now, and her head has a fresh bandage, but Lexa notices how tired she still looks. Lexa had heard that Storm offered her a sleeping aid last night, but Clarke had refused.

Lexa isn't surprised. Clarke is the most stubborn young woman Lexa has ever met, and it's something she usually enjoyed about her personality. Not right now, though. Right now, it's awful.

Lexa stands rigidly, her hands clasped behind her back, gazing at Clarke as she mounts her horse. Lexa doesn't miss the fact that, as soon as Clarke is situated on the horse, her arms shoot out to pull the child from Storm's arms. Clarke can claim otherwise until she is blue in the face, but Lexa knows Clarke cares for the child. Lexa can understand why Clarke would hide her feelings for Willow, though. Lexa does the same thing when it comes to feelings for Clarke. Although, the sideways glances from Indra always told Lexa that she wasn't hiding it as well as she thought.

"Heda?" Indra moves to stand in front of her commander, dipping her head to show respect. "I sent two riders ahead as you requested."

"Good. Mochof, Indra," Lexa says, gratefully. "Is everyone else ready to leave?"

"Sha, Heda," Indra nods.

"It is time then," Lexa says. Lexa leads Indra to their horses, her head held high even when Clarke shoots her a disgruntled look. She gracefully mounts her horse, her eyes fixed straight ahead. A simple nod tells her warriors that she is ready to leave, and they are quick to comply. Lexa sighs softly. They are 2 days from Polis and she is impatient to get home. Her time away from the capital always comes with limited rest, and this trip is taking its toll on her body.

The beginning of their journey is relaxing, as Lexa usually found it to be. The steady, calming, swaying movement from the horse beneath her always made Lexa feel calm and centered. In these moments, travelling between her duties, Lexa always feels freer than she actually is; as though she's taking a break from her role as commander. A break from her duties doesn't actually exist, of course, but Lexa enjoys these calm moments as much as she can.

Even after several hours on top of her white steed, Lexa's mood doesn't drop. Nor do her eyes leave the back of Clarke's head. Lexa has been watching Clarke for most of the ride, wondering what Clarke is thinking about and worrying about her health. The bandage on the back of Clarke's head is clearly visible, and Lexa wishes she could personally check on Clarke's wellbeing. She doesn't, though. Clarke wishes for her to stay away, and Lexa plans on honoring those wishes. No matter how much pain this causes her.

That doesn't mean Lexa hasn't been keeping an eye on Clarke, though. She had ordered Storm to inform her if Clarke suffered from any side effects from her injury, and Lexa has been keeping an eye on Clarke herself, too. From a distance, of course. Clarke seems fatigued, but otherwise okay.

Lexa has spent the first part of the journey thinking about Clarke, and she wonders if Clarke has been thinking about her, too. No...Lexa shakes that thought from her head. She can't afford to think like that. She is Heda, she shouldn't be focusing her thoughts on the girl from the sky. Her thoughts should be trained on how she will keep her people safe from the impending threat from Azgeda.

Lexa stiffens her spine to stifle the shiver that threatens to flow through her at the mere thought of the ice nation. The whispers of their most recent threat had been the most worrisome of all of Queen Nia's plans. Lexa still doesn't understand how Nia learned of her remaining family, but she swears to herself that she will punish those who are responsible.

Yes. Whoever told Queen Nia about her uncle and his family will suffer greatly. As will the people who had sold Nia the story of Clarke's power as Wanheda. Lexa knows that Clarke holds no power, but she has heard the whispered rumors that had spread amongst her people. They believe that Clarke is the commander of death, but Lexa knows differently.

She also knows that Clarke detests being known as Wanheda. Clarke has killed, yes, but only when it had been necessary; and she still suffers from the guilt of those deaths. Clarke should not be known as the commander of death, but as the commander of life.

One of Lexa's first experiences of Clarke had been when Clarke begged for Finn's life, and then for peace. In Lexa's opinion, Clarke being tied to so much death is a massive insult. The Clarke she knows is invested in saving people, not in killing them. The deaths Clarke had been involved in had come from a lack of choice and, as Lexa knows, comes from her fault rather than Clarke's.

Lexa's warriors, who Clarke had burned alive, had died because Clarke had no choice but to kill the people trying to kill her. The people from the mountain, who died due to radiation, had died because Clarke needed to save her own people. Finn, who had died by Clarke's hand, had died to save him from suffering. Yes, Clarke has killed, but never because she wanted to.

Lexa is dragged from her thoughts when she hears her baby cousin cry, and the tiniest of smiles decorates her lips when she hears Clarke comfort the child. This is the Clarke Lexa knows, the Clarke that wishes only to soothe pain and suffering. This isn't Wanheda, this is Clarke; the young woman who wants nothing more than peace.

"Heda, are you okay?" Lexa spares Indra a glance and offers her a small nod, but otherwise doesn't reply. She does not wish her warriors to know of her weaknesses. It is nothing to do with them. What their Heda says goes. No matter what the reasons behind her orders are.

Lexa actively ignores Indra and the rest of her warriors as the journey continues. She focuses all of her attention on Clarke and the baby. It is, after all, Lexa's warriors' jobs to look out for threats. Lexa is content watching Clarke whisper to the child strapped to her chest, her heart warming as she hears the soft coos.

As the hours silently pass by, Lexa doesn't miss Clarke's growing discomfort. It's obvious that Clarke is unused to riding horses and that she is in pain. That, coupled with carrying the child's weight, must make Clarke's body ache. Lexa is impressed that Clarke is able to suffer so quietly, without complaint. Impressed, but not surprised.

Lexa estimates that there is, perhaps, still an hour or so until the light begins to fade. Usually, she would wait until the last possible moment to stop for the evening, but not tonight. Tonight she'll stop early. Not for Clarke's benefit, though. No, of course not. Most definitely not.

...

Clarke frowns when she notices the warriors ahead of her come to a stop, her furrowed brow digging future wrinkles into her skin. She doesn't understand why they have stopped and she is irritated, but at the same time she is relieved. Her legs and ass throb more than they had after her first horse ride, and her back aches from Willow's weight.

The thought of resting is comforting, but it also makes her want to cry. The more they stop, the longer the journey to Polis takes. Her heart sinks ever so slightly as she watches Storm dismount from his horse, realizing that they are in fact most definitely stopping.

Storm walks towards her, holding out his arms for Willow, and Clarke knows what is expected from her. She silently passes Willow to Storm and jumps down from her horse, stretching out her aching limbs as soon as she touches the ground. As much as Clarke wishes they would continue their journey and get to Polis as soon as possible, it's nice to receive a break from riding.

Clarke is quick to take Willow back into her arms and she gently jiggles the baby, calming her. Willow seems to be instantly calmed as soon as she is in Clarke's arms, a fact that isn't missed by the people near them. Especially Lexa.

Clarke can feel Lexa's eyes on her, just like she had for the entire journey, but she actively ignores the attention. She doesn't want to see Lexa right now, nor talk to her. Hell, she doesn't even want to _think_ about Lexa.

"You should rest." Clarke turns to face the person who spoke, surprised to see Ash standing behind her. "It will take us a while to set up camp," Ash says, handing Clarke a blanket. Clarke nods, studying the man in front of her.

"Thank you." Ash gives her a stiff nod before turning on his heel, not sparing her another glance as he leaves to help his people. "Well, that was strange," Clarke murmurs to Willow. Green eyes stare back at her, seemingly unfazed about the weird interaction. Clarke stares back at Willow for a moment, wondering how she hadn't noticed the child's resemblance to Lexa. Perhaps her brain just didn't want to notice this.

Clarke uses her free hand to throw the blanket around her shoulders. She wraps it around herself and Willow, choosing to sit down and lean against a nearby tree. At least the ground seems to be pretty dry now. Clarke's hand comes to rest on the back of Willow's head, her fingers stroking through the dark curls. Willow's presence comforts her, and it's obvious that her presence comforts Willow, too.

Clarke never expected to bond with Willow as quickly as she has, but she is glad that it happened. Willow's warm body against Clarke's is a reminder that there is still some good in this world. This innocent, beautiful child may just repair the damage that recent events have done to her heart. Perhaps, in time, Clarke will begin to heal.

"Where do you go?" Clarke's gaze snaps up to meet Storm's concerned eyes. She didn't even hear him approach them. His expression is a mixture of worry and curiosity.

"What do you mean?" Clarke asks him, frowning slightly as Storm slumps downwards to sit opposite herself and Willow.

"Where do you go?" he repeats. "You are with us, but every so often it seems like your mind is not," Storm says. "One minute you are here, and the next you are lost in thought." Clarke studies Storm carefully, seeing in his eyes that he has no ulterior motives. He's just concerned.

"I was just thinking," Clarke tells him, her voice hushed. "So much has happened," she says, surprising herself. Clarke has longed for someone to talk to about the thing she has done, but she never expected that Storm, one of Lexa's warriors, would be the person she could open up to. "There's so much blood on my hands...I see it every time I fall asleep."

Storm nods. He understands. He too has had to end lives when he didn't want to. He has heard many stories about Clarke, about the great Wanheda, and he has even witnessed her in action. He's not surprised by her guilt.

"I just wanted peace," Clarke whispers. "I didn't want anyone else to lose their lives, but he didn't give me a choice. Cage... he was going to kill my people...my mom." Clarke stops herself then. It hurts too much to talk about the mountain just yet.

"We are not so different, Clarke," Storm says. "Killing others is not something we wish to do. It is something that it sometimes necessary. The mountain has fallen, and it needed to. Allowing them to live would be the same as casting a death sentence upon your people. You should remember that." Storm's voice is softer than Clarke has ever heard, and there is sorrow in his dark eyes.

Understanding hits her like a bolt of lightning. Lexa's deal with the mountain men, whilst heart breaking to Clarke, had been necessary. Lexa had sacrificed the sky people to ensure the safety of her own people, just like Clarke had sacrificed the innocents in the mountain for the same reason.

It still doesn't make Lexa's betrayal hurt less, though. Like Jasper, Clarke still feels wounded by the decisions made by someone she trusted. Even though she understands, the wound still feels raw.

"You have left again." Storm sounds amused, but Clarke cannot bring herself to smile. "Come on, the camp is ready. You should rest properly, otherwise you will not heal."

"Where are your tents?" Clarke asks Storm, noticing that only one small tent has been erected in the small clearing.

"We are stopping only until dawn," Storm says. "We will rest outside, beside the fire. We sleep in shifts during short stops," he explains. Clarke nods. There really would be no point erecting all of the tents for such a short space of time. Even Lexa's large tent hasn't been brought out.

It does concern her, though, that Willow seems to be expected to rest outside; exposed to the elements. Surely they would understand that a baby would need shelter. Looking down at the baby strapped to her chest, Clarke sighs softly.

"What about Willow?" Clarke asks, her eyes lifting to meet Storm's gaze.

"You should not think so little of us, Clarke," Storm says, disappointment evident in his tone. It's clear to Clarke that she has offended him. "We would not wish for a child to sleep outside in the cold."

"I'm sorry." Clarke feels guilty, a feeling she is all too used to. "I'm just concerned. There's only one tent, and I assumed it would be for Lexa." Storm nods, accepting her apology and explanation.

"Willow will sleep in Heda's tent," Storm says. "As will you." Clarke pauses, her brow furrowing as she shakes her head.

"Willow will sleep in the tent. I'll sleep outside," Clarke says firmly. There's no chance in hell she's going to share a confined space with Lexa. It's bad enough that she is always in the commander's presence, sharing a sleeping area would be too much for her.

"Heda does not wish for you to be out in the open," Storm tells her. "It would be a huge risk. I'm sorry, Clarke, but you and Willow will be resting in Heda's tent."

It is obvious, from his expression, that Storm does not enjoy forcing Clarke into this situation. That doesn't make Clarke feel any better about it, though. Whether he enjoys it or not, Clarke still has to follow these orders, and that leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

...

Lexa rolls her eyes when she hears Clarke huff for the 5th time in as many minutes. There's a partition between them in the small tent, but it offers very little privacy and distance. Lexa is all too aware that Clarke is lying just a mere few feet from her. She's sure that Clarke is aware of this, too. The constant huffing tells her that.

Lexa shifts on her cot, staring at the shadows the candles cast on the skin of the tent. Usually she could fall asleep very easily on journeys, the sounds of the forest acting like a lullaby. Not tonight, though. Not with Clarke so close. There's another huff, and Lexa sighs.

"You should sleep, Clarke." There's no response from Clarke, and Lexa isn't surprised. The only sound coming from the other side of the tent is soft whimpers from Willow. "Is she okay?" Lexa asks.

"Yes." Clarke's tone is clipped; cold.

Lexa sets her jaw, her teeth grinding together. She cannot understand how someone so mature, who has been through so much, could be so petulant. Lexa isn't asking Clarke to be her friend, or even to participate in small talk. She's merely hoping for a civil response to a simple question.

"She sounds upset," Lexa says. There's a sigh from the other side of the partition, and Lexa hears Clarke's cot creak as she moves.

"I think she's hungry," Clarke says, "but she won't eat." At this, Lexa stands, ducking her head slightly in the smaller than usual tent.

"I'm going to join you, Clarke." Lexa's voice is gentle, but it's not a request. As much as Lexa wants to respect Clarke's wish for space, this is her tent and the child is her responsibility. Lexa is merely giving chance a moment to ensure she is decent before she pulls the partition back.

"Okay."

Lexa pulls the cloth back and silently steps into Clarke's side of the tent, her eyes immediately lands on Clarke. Specifically, on her legs. Clarke's trousers are still lying on the floor, and she is sitting on the cot dressed only in her shorts and long sleeved t-shirt. Lexa's eyes linger on Clarke's legs, her nostrils flaring ever so slightly at the dark bruises that paint her pale skin.

Lexa realizes she is staring, and immediately turns her focus to the child on Clarke's lap. The child's wet eyes cause Lexa's chest to painfully clench and she takes a few steps forward, ensuring her movements aren't too sudden. Lexa doesn't want to alarm the child. Lexa notices the baby's food is mostly untouched, and she doesn't blame her. It doesn't look appealing at all.

"Have you tried the milk instead?" Lexa asks, kneeling down in front of Clarke's lap so that she's at eye level with Willow.

"Not yet," Clarke says, not quite meeting Lexa's gaze. Her eyes seem to be focused on the side of Lexa's head instead. "The lessons I had on the ark said babies couldn't drink milk from an animal until they reached a certain age." Lexa smiles gently at this.

"You forget that children have been raised on the ground during the whole time your people were in the sky," Lexa says, keeping her tone light. She is careful to not sound condescending. "Willow's stomach will be used to this milk." Lexa doesn't miss Clarke's surprised expression at the use of Willow's name. Lexa, too, is surprised, but she doesn't know her birth name. Using the name Clarke gave to her will be better than just referring to her as 'the child'. Besides, Lexa likes the name Clarke chose. It sounds strong and beautiful.

"I didn't know," Clarke says, her voice quiet. She's embarrassed.

"You had no reason to, Clarke," Lexa reassures her. "Here," Lexa hands Clarke the bottle of milk from the floor, "try."

Clarke is hesitant, but she takes the bottle from Lexa anyway. Lexa watches, keeping her features impassive, as Clarke holds the bottle to Willow's lips. Clarke positively beams when Willow begins to greedily guzzle the milk, and Lexa feels her own smile tug at her lips.

"Goat's milk," Lexa says. Clarke nods, her features suddenly sober. Lexa frowns, confused as to why Clarke's mood has changed so quickly. Clarke is staring down at her knee and Lexa follows her gaze...oh. Lexa snatches her hand from Clarke's leg. She didn't even realize she had allowed her hand to rest there.

Lexa's breath catches in her throat, and she refuses to make eye contact. She rises to her feet, attempting to ignore her hammering pulse. Lexa mentally curses herself for ruining their first civil conversation since the mountain. There had almost been a break through...almost.

"Good night, Clarke." Clarke sighs softly as Lexa swiftly leaves, the cloth divider suddenly falling back into place. Clarke hears Lexa slump down onto her cot, and she frowns. She didn't mean to upset Lexa, she had just been startled by the touch. Lexa's hand had been so gentle, her entire demeanor relaxed around herself and Willow.

She had, of course, seen this version of Lexa before, but it was in rare moments. Clarke did not expect to see that tonight, not after spitting in Lexa's face and screaming abuse in her direction. She realizes that Lexa accepts her anger. Understands it. Despite Lexa receiving awful news, she had still seemed so composed. At least, that's what Clarke had thought. Clearly she had been wrong. She sighs again.

"Lexa?" There's a long silence, and Clarke isn't sure if a response will come. But it does. Of course it does; it's Lexa.

"Yes, Clarke?"

"I'm sorry about your family," Clarke says, her tone soft. The silence that follows is much more drawn out this time. Clarke has finished feeding Willow and is in the process of winding her by the time Lexa speaks again.

"Take good care of her, Clarke. She is all I have."

Clarke is sure she can feel her heart breaking in her chest. She doesn't think she has ever heard a sadder statement, and she has never heard Lexa sound so small and vulnerable. Clarke hates it...hates hearing Lexa sound that way, but the sudden lump in her throat stops her from responding.

Clarke wishes their relationship was more straight forward, and wishes that she could trust Lexa. Perhaps, some day, Clarke will be able to tell Lexa how she feels. Yes, perhaps some day Lexa will know that Willow isn't all that she has.

 **If you have any questions - MinionKomSkaikru on Tumblr :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **Well that took a lot longer than expected! Sorry about the wait!**

 **A massive thank you to my beta, SilverDoe14!**

Polis is unlike any other place on Earth that Clarke has seen, and the first sight of it takes her breath away. The city spread out in front of her is thriving with bustling, everyday life. A massive tower hangs over the busy streets, and Clarke just knows that this is where Lexa lives.

Children run freely in the streets, weaving in and out of various market stalls as they chase each other with wooden swords. The air is filled with cheerful noise, and the scent of different foods being cooked at a few stalls makes Clarke's mouth water.

No one has noticed the arrival of their commander as of yet, and Lexa doesn't seem to be in a hurry to announce it. If anything, Lexa looks eager to soak in the atmosphere in front of her. Clarke doesn't miss the pride in those green eyes. It's clear to Clarke, now more than ever, that Lexa adores her people. If love is weakness, then Lexa's people are her weakness.

The further they ride into the city, the more attention they receive. Loud chatter turns to low murmuring, several people dropping to one knee when they realize who is with the group of warriors and the children stare at their commander. Clarke can tell that the people of Polis love Lexa just as much as Lexa loves them.

It makes Clarke think back to the first time Lexa told her that love was weakness. Surely, here, love cannot truly be seen as a weakness, but as a strength. The more time Clarke spends with Lexa, the more she learns about her. Lexa has done things, to uphold their laws, which Clarke's people view as wrong. It's clear, though, that Lexa has a lot of good inside of her, and she wishes that the others back at Camp Jaha could witness this.

At this moment, though, Clarke doesn't think they ever will. If her people ever find out that Clarke is here, and against her will at that, they won't arrive here ready to see the good within the grounder community. No, they will come here to fight. Clarke doesn't want that. She'd much rather there be peace between them. Even before all this, Clarke had known that they'd be stronger working with the grounders instead of against them.

"Clarke!" Storm's voice drags Clarke out of her thoughts, and she realizes that she is the only one still on a horse. "Welcome to Polis." Storm is standing beside her horse, his ever present grin plastered on his face. He holds his hands out and Clarke carefully passes Willow down to him, offering a small smile in response. Once Willow is safely deposited into Storm's arms, Clarke lowers herself down from her horse, stumbling slightly when her feet hit the ground.

Clarke can feel the eyes of many people on her, the people of Polis both curious and excited, but she doesn't allow any eye contact. She doesn't wish to see the hate or judgement that she is sure will be present in their eyes. Clarke focuses only on Willow as she pulls the child back into her arms, Willow squealing happily at the reunion. She is vaguely aware of Ash introducing her to the crowd, but Clarke tries her best to ignore it.

"...the mountain slayer!" Clarke winces when she hears Ash's exclamation. The following cheers should make her feel good, but they don't. Clarke isn't ready to celebrate what happened at the mountain. It's clear that, thanks to Lexa and her warriors, the people of Polis view her as a hero, but Clarke can't appreciate this. Not yet, anyway.

Right now, Clarke just feels like a murderer. She had to end the lives of a lot of innocent people because of the crimes of a few, and it feels like she will never get over that. Perhaps, in time, she will accept that she had no choice. A huge part of Clarke is already aware of that fact, but the smaller part of her that doesn't accept it seems to overpower the rest of her.

She hears Lexa snap at Ash in Trigedasleng, her anger extremely obvious to those around her. Green eyes turn to her; apologetic. Lexa seems to understand that Clarke doesn't wish to rejoice in her actions at the mountain. Their eyes are locked for only a moment before Lexa turns back to her people, and Clarke instantly misses the connection.

The group unexpectedly begins walking through the city, and Clarke is surprised. She had expected Lexa to speak to her people, but it's clear that she has no current intention to do so. Perhaps Lexa is wary of the inevitable questions about Willow.

"I have never seen someone look so sad whilst viewed as a hero," Storm says, sidling a little closer to her. Clarke shifts uncomfortably, choosing to look at nothing in particular.

"I'm not proud of the things I was forced to do," Clarke admits, her voice a mere whisper. She still avoids looking at Storm, but she can feel his eyes on her.

"Nor I," Storm says. "Very few people are proud of ending lives, but a lot of us learn to forgive ourselves and accept that we had no choice." Storm sounds sad, and Clarke can't help but turn to face him. Her eyes meet his, and Clarke doesn't miss the understanding within his gaze.

"Ash...he..." Clarke trails off, unsure how to explain herself.

"He hasn't had to make the kind of sacrifices that you have," Storm says, "not yet. He has fought beside us before, but he mostly runs errands for Heda. He is proud that he has brought Wanheda to Polis, but doesn't understand that you are a young warrior who is haunted by her battles," Storm explains. "Ash has a lot to learn still, but he means no harm."

"I'm not a warrior," Clarke scoffs, shaking her head.

"In my eyes, Clarke, you are."

With that, Storm walks away. He joins the group of warriors at the front beside Lexa, leaving Clarke and Willow with the small group that brings up the rear. Clarke's gaze sweeps over the vendors behind each stall as they walk through Polis, her fingers absentmindedly stroking Willow's hair. They all look pleased to see Clarke with their commander, but it just makes Clarke feel like a fraud.

Clarke allows her gaze to fall to the ground as they keep walking forward, pulling Willow a little further

into her chest. The little warm body against hers is comforting. Clarke feels so alone, even in the crowd, but at least she has Willow.

They reach the tower and, due to the guards posted there, the crowd is much thinner and Clarke is relieved to no longer feel all those eyes on her. It takes a moment for Clarke to realize that the warriors, including Storm, are no longer with them. It is just a handful of guards that lead her inside the tower, and Clarke looks all around her; taking in the interior. The main entrance is covered with grand looking tapestries, paintings, and statues. The numerous candles cause the statues to cast eerie shadows on the walls, sending a shiver down Clarke's spine.

She doesn't have too much time to look around, though, as she is quickly led into a manually operated elevator. Clarke wonders if she will be ever cease to be amazed at the grounders' ingenuity. Probably not. It's not until the door of the elevator closes that Clarke notices she and Willow are now alone with Lexa.

"There is a room ready for you and Willow to use," Lexa says as the elevator shudders to life, jerking them slightly. "It is close to my room...if you need anything." Clarke's eyebrows rise at this and Lexa awkwardly clears her throat. "I'd like Willow to be nearby," Lexa adds, her voice soft. Clarke nods, glancing down at the child in her arms.

"You haven't held her yet..." Clarke says, trailing off as she goes to hand Willow to Lexa.

"No!" Lexa steps as far away as she can in the cramped elevator. "No," she says again, her tone much more controlled this time. "She seems content with you," Lexa says. Clarke frowns, but doesn't say anything. She doesn't miss that Lexa is now avoiding even glancing in their direction, though.

An excruciating silence fills the elevator for the rest of the journey to the top, Lexa still refusing to look at either Clarke or Willow. Willow seems to sense the tension and she lets out a small whimper, drawing the attention of both women.

"Is she okay?" Lexa softly asks, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. Clarke nods, rubbing Willow's back.

"I think she's just hungry," Clarke says. "She eats like she has never seen food before," she adds, laughing lightly.

"There is food for both of you in the room," Lexa tells her. Her eyes, surprisingly, are now focused completely on Willow. As much as she doesn't wish to show her weakness for the child, her cousin, Clarke easily spots it. "Everything you both need has been arranged," Lexa adds. "I sent a messenger to speak with your people," she says, surprising Clarke.

"You did?"

"Yes, Clarke," Lexa nods. "I only wish to protect you. You are here for your own safety, and your people have a right to know that you are here." Clarke opens her mouth to respond, but snaps it shut when she realizes she doesn't know what to say to that.

The elevator jerks to a halt and Clarke stumbles. Lexa's arm shoots out, gently grasping Clarke's upper arm to hold her steady, the simple touch causing goose bumps to erupt all over Clarke's body. Their eyes meet, Lexa's gaze softer than Clarke has ever seen. The air between them feels thick and intense, and Clarke's breath catches in her throat. Lexa steps forward, closing the gap between them.

"Clarke, I..." The doors creak open, cutting Lexa off. Clarke feels her heart sink when Lexa steps away from her, clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders. "I'll show you to your room."

Clarke dejectedly follows Lexa through the halls, ignoring the warriors that stare at her. She wishes the doors hadn't opened so quickly and wishes to hear what Lexa was going to say, but she knows the moment is gone. At least for now.

Clarke spots Eden waiting outside a door and she's surprised. She had assumed the young girl lived in the village they stopped at.

"Everything is ready, Heda," Eden says, bowing her head as they approach.

"Mochof, Eden," Lexa says. "I trust your room is sufficient?"

"Sha, Heda," Eden nods. Clarke notices how Eden seems around her commander, and she finds it endearing. It's obvious that Eden adores and looks up to Lexa.

"Good. You should rest for today and get settled in." Lexa makes it sound like a suggestion, but they all know that it isn't. Eden nods, bowing again before she rushes off; eager to please her commander.

"You made her move here to help with Willow?" Clarke quietly asks, instantly cringing at how harsh are words sound.

"It was not against her will," Lexa says. "Many wish to help their commander. Those who do are always taken care of and rewarded. I wish you did not think so little of me. I hope one day I can change your mind."

With that, Lexa strides ahead of Clarke and walks to the door Eden had been outside of. Clarke sighs heavily, inwardly cursing herself. Any time she and Lexa made some progress, she always somehow manages to force them backwards again.

She follows Lexa into the room, immediately stopping in her tracks. The room is nothing short of beautiful. The huge window easily allows light to flow in, highlighting the gorgeous hand carved furniture and the plush furs on the bed.

What catches her eye the most, though, is the crib sitting next to the giant bed. Clarke walks towards it, running her hand along the smooth wood. It's obvious that a lot of care had gone into making it and it had taken a long time to do so. There's no way it has been made especially for Willow.

"It was mine," Lexa says, as though she is reading Clarke's thoughts. "My father made it when he discovered my mother was pregnant." Lexa's voice is quiet; wistful, and Clarke doesn't dare interrupt

her. "I could never bear to part with it. It took him so long to make it." Clarke watches Lexa intently, enamored by her in this moment.

"It's beautiful, Lexa," Clarke says. Lexa smiles, her expression almost shy as she meets Clarke's gaze. Lexa's beautiful, too, Clarke thinks to herself. Even more so right now, her expression tender, her eyes bright and gentle. "I'm sorry for what I said," Clarke says. Lexa waves her apology away,

"That's not necessary, Clarke." Clarke feels a shiver run down her spine. Hearing Lexa say her name like that, so softly, makes her feel so mentally vulnerable; exposed. No one has ever made her feel quite how Lexa makes her feel.

"I..." Clarke cuts herself off. She has a strong desire to speak, to just say anything to keep Lexa here with her in this moment, but her voice seems to pull Lexa from her trance. Clarke can see the transition from a wistful, young woman to hardened, battle worn commander.

"I will leave you and Willow to settle in," Lexa says. "There's food and fresh clothes, and I will send someone to show you where you can bathe. There will be a guard outside if you need anything," Lexa explains, waving her hand towards the door. "Storm will meet you in the morning; he'll show you to the healer's cabin. The healer wishes to check on Willow," Lexa says, turning on her heel.

"Lexa," Clarke calls out as Lexa walks towards the door, stopping her in her tracks. "I don't think so little of you." Lexa's expression once again softens, the corner of her mouth twitching into an almost smile.

"Rest well, Clarke."

Clarke watches Lexa leave, sighing heavily once she and Willow are alone in the room. Clarke looks down at Willow and is met with a baleful glare. Clarke rolls her eyes.

"Gimme a break, kid," she says. "Your big cousin and I have a weird history," Clarke adds, sighing as she readjusts her hold on Willow. Clarke's arms feel like they are made of lead from holding Willow for so long, but Willow seems to prefer being held. "How about we get you some food, huh?"

Clarke's first night alone with Willow proves to be more difficult than Clarke could have anticipated. Willow has gotten distressed several times during the night and Clarke is convinced that the whole tower can hear her. The guard posted outside even offers his assistance, but Clarke turns him down when she realizes what it is that Willow is upset about.

There are many things Clarke can do for Willow, but she can't give Willow the one thing she seems desperate for. Her parents. Yes, Clarke can hold her, and whisper gently to her and feed her, but she can't turn herself into Willow's mother. Her touch is different, as is her scent.

Now that Willow seems to have realized that her separation from her parents isn't temporary, she is inconsolable. Even now, as she lays on Clarke's bed, wrapped in Clarke's arms, she isn't happy. The front of Clarke's shirt is damp from Willow's tears and her head hurts from Willow's constant crying, but Clarke is surprised by how calm she remains. Perhaps she has more patience in her than she realized.

"Clarke?" Clarke's gaze snaps across to the door of the bedroom, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. Lexa is back. Lexa, and her flowing nightdress that shows a healthy amount of bare leg, is back. Her hair is flowing over one shoulder and there is no gear between her eyebrows. She looks younger; radiant.

"Clarke? Did you hear me?" Clarke blushes. She had been staring, and Lexa knows it. "I could hear her cries. Do you need help?" Lexa crosses the room and stands beside Clarke's bed, not sitting down on the edge of it until Clarke motions for her to do so.

"I think she misses her mother," Clarke says, her voice sad. Clarke hates that she has to remind Lexa of her dead relatives, but, at the same time, Clarke realizes that Lexa has probably not stopped thinking of her uncle. It would be hard not to think of him when his child is screaming in her home.

"Has she eaten?" Lexa asks, her brow furrowing. She's concerned, and Clarke loves that Lexa will let her see this.

"Yes. Some."

"Have you?" Lexa's green eyes leave Willow, landing on Clarke instead. Lexa studies her when Clarke nods, as though not entirely convinced that she's telling the truth. Clarke does have a history of not taking care of herself, after all. Clarke holds Lexa's gaze and, after a moment, Lexa nods; accepting her answer.

"I don't know what I can do for her," Clarke admits, frowning. She gently strokes Willow's dark curls, attempting to soothe her. Her frown deepens when Lexa abruptly stands, her eyes following Lexa as she crosses the bedroom. Lexa grabs a small bottle from a shelf and brings it across to Clarke and Willow.

"This is a lavender salve," Lexa says as she removes the stopper from the bottle. "It will help her sleep." Clarke watches Lexa carefully as Lexa tips the bottle, urging some of the salve into the palm of her hand. Lexa seems so eerily calm, even as she reaches across Clarke to gently massage the salve onto Willow's chest.

Lexa encourages Clarke to hold Willow against her chest again, her words so soft that they are almost a whisper. They sit together in silence as Clarke rocks Willow to sleep, the infant's cries eventually fading into soft sniffles.

"Should I put her into the crib?" Clarke asks, receiving only a nod from Lexa. "I...er, I can't get up," Clarke says, unable to use her arms as leverage due to the almost sleeping baby that lays in them.

"Oh." Lexa falters for a second. She seems to working out some kind of game plan, wondering where she can place her hands. Clarke finds it endearing that Lexa is always so wary of overstepping. It takes a moment, but Lexa rises to her feet and places one arm around Clarke's waist, the other resting on her hip.

"It's okay, Lexa. I don't bite," Clarke says, laughing lightly as she tries to break the sudden intense silence between them. Lexa, though, merely looks confused and Clarke realizes that she's probably never heard

that phrase before. "I just mean...you don't need to be scared of touching me," Clarke says, even though the feeling of Lexa's arms through her thin shirt causes goose bumps to erupt on Clarke's arms.

"Are you okay now?" Lexa asks, ignoring Clarke's previous statement. She's uncomfortable, and nervous. Clarke can easily notice it and she wants to tell Lexa that she feels the same, but she just can't bring herself to.

"Yeah, thanks," Clarke says. Lexa's hands spring away from Clarke, and Clarke instantly misses the contact. Clarke attempts to make eye contact with Lexa, but Lexa is now purposely avoiding her gaze. Clarke doesn't miss Lexa's heavy swallow, or the way her eyes seem to have misted over.

Lexa clears her throat and Clarke, once again, realizes she has been staring at Lexa. She forces herself to look away and to focus on Willow instead. As carefully as she possible can, Clarke places Willow into the crib, tucking the soft furs underneath her tiny chin. Willow looks so peaceful in sleep and Clarke wishes the infant could feel so calm all of the time.

"She looks so..." Clarke trails off, surprised to see that Lexa had left. She frowns. Clarke wishes Lexa had stayed a little longer, but she'd be lying if she said it was for Willow's sake. It's confusing to be around Lexa, but it's also comforting. Lexa may come across as a cold, ruthless commander, but she is also warm and caring. And good. She's so fucking good.

Clarke slumps down onto the edge of her bed and groans into her hands. She had always thought that she would, in time, get over Lexa, that she'd be able to keep some distance between them, but Clarke was wrong. Even when Lexa isn't around, which isn't often, Clarke finds herself pining for Lexa to come back.

Clarke knows that Lexa must still feel something for her. Why else would she go out of her way to ensure Clarke is well looked after. Lexa can't just be scared of others gaining Wanheda's powers. Wanheda needs only to be guarded, but Clarke is being treated like someone of great importance. Clarke's eyes widen, her breath hitches in her throat as she finally realizes...

To Lexa, she _is_ of great importance.

 **To be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **Thank you to those who left comments, and an extra special thank you to my beta SilverDoe14!**

As promised, Storm waits for her the next day. He's leaning against the wall, casually chatting to one of the guards when he spots Clarke stepping out of the tower with Willow. The smile that stretches across his face is infectious, and Clarke feels herself grin right back at him. He always looks so happy to see her and Clarke feels the same way about him. He's so easy to be around.

"Good morning, Clarke," Storm says as he approaches them. "Did you sleep well?"

"Fine," Clarke lies. Clarke had barely slept at all; her mind just wouldn't shut up enough to let her sleep. She knows that Storm has seen straight through her, but Storm is nice enough to not comment. He merely nods, before his gaze lands on Willow.

"May I?" Storm asks, holding his hands out for Willow. His ever present grin seems wider than usual, and Clarke can't help smiling back at him as she passes Willow into his waiting arms. Willow doesn't seem to mind, the child merely grinning at Storm as she lightly tugs on one of his braids.

"Do you have children?" Clarke asks, noticing how much Storm seems to enjoy being around Willow.

"Not yet," Storm says with a shake of his head, "hopefully one day. I have many nephews, though. You'll meet them later tonight," Storm adds as he leads Clarke along a path. They're heading into the outskirts of Polis, towards the large wall that protects the commander's city.

"At the celebration?" Clarke asks, shivering slightly as she tugs her jacket further around her body. The early morning air is refreshing, but bitterly cold.

"Yes," Storm nods. "I will be celebrating the union between my _houmon_ and I," he explains, gently bouncing Willow in his strong arms. "We are committing to one another."

"Congratulations," Clarke says, smiling. "She is a lucky woman." She means it.

"I'm the lucky one," Storm grins, coming to a stop outside a wooden cabin. "This is the healer's cabin. Heda wishes for him to check your head," he says. Clarke frowns, but nods her agreement all the same. Lexa had known well enough to not tell Clarke this part; she knows her well and is aware of how stubborn her girl from the sky can be.

Storm opens the door, not bothering to knock, and motions for Clarke to follow him inside. The inside is large and brightly lit, thanks to the many windows, and candles are scattered around in preparation for nightfall. Many different kinds of salves and instruments are neatly stacked on shelves, and Clarke recognizes a few of them. Although, she has never so many of them in one place. It's an impressive collection.

"Ah, Heda informed me that I would be seeing you today," an elderly man says as he steps out of another room. Clarke hadn't even noticed the several other doors inside the vast room.

"This is our senior healer, Clarke," Storm says, not offering his name. "He is the best that we have," Storm adds. The healer looks pleased at his comment, smug even.

"Perhaps we should start with the _goufa_ ," the healer says, clearly uninterested in making any sort of polite small talk. He holds his arms out for Willow, but Clarke hesitates.

"It's okay, Clarke," Storm assures her, "you can trust him," he says. Clarke sighs, but hands Willow to the healer anyway.

Willow doesn't seem to be impressed at all about being handed to a stranger, her green eyes wide as she stares at Clarke. Her little arms reach out for her, a pout pulling at her lips. Clarke melts.

"I'm right here, pretty girl," Clarke says, her voice gentle and comforting. "You're okay." Willow doesn't seem to believe Clarke, her pout staying firmly in place. The tears building in her eyes don't yet fall, though.

"Do not worry when she cries, Clarke," Storm says. "She will be more shocked than hurt. Every child is," Storm explains. Clarke balks, taking a sudden step forward; her protective instincts jumping into place. "Let the healer work." Storm blocks Clarke from approaching the table where Willow is lying. "It is nothing to worry about."

Clarke eyes him dangerously as she steps slightly to the side of him, ensuring Willow can still see her. Clarke panics when the healer pulls a thin needle from underneath the table, her chest tightening as she watches him rub some kind of salve on it.

"What are you doing?" Clarke demands, "What is that for?"

"Do not worry, Clarke. It is just a small prick to the foot," Storm says. "Nothing more." Storm is sincere and Clarke believes him, but that doesn't stop her from being confused. Why would they need to do that? Clarke remembers her mother checking a patient's blood sugar levels, after the patient fainted, using this method. But, the prick had been to the patient's finger and, besides, this test seems too sophisticated for the grounders and their usual methods.

"Why? Why does he need to do that?" Clarke asks. "Why?" she demands.

"It is a test that a lot of children receive, Clarke," Storm says. "All will be explained in due time."

Clarke works her jaw, frustrated by the lack of explanation. There's a part of Clarke that understands why she is being kept out of the loop, Lexa will probably need to be informed first, but it still irritates her to no end. All Clarke wants to do is pull Willow away from the healer, but she knows it's pointless. If Storm has been ordered to bring Willow to the healer, then he won't allow Clarke to put a stop to it.

Clarke frowns when Willow lets out a whine, her eyes fixed on Clarke and her little arms reaching for her again. Clarke feels terrible, and she wishes Willow could understand why this is happening. She doesn't, though.

The healer is surprisingly gentle as he takes Willow's foot into his hand, but Willow still doesn't seem to appreciate his touch. Her efforts to escape from the healer are futile, though.

Clarke winces as the needle is pressed into the heel of Willow's foot, still completely confused as to why the healer would need to do that to her. Clarke doesn't question him again, though. She has to accept that there are a lot of things the grounders do that Clarke doesn't understand.

It is a mere prick, but Willow reacts loudly, making Clarke feel like complete crap. Even though it was necessary to for it to happen, Clarke feels like she has failed Willow for allowing the healer to upset her in such a way.

Clarke steps forward to comfort Willow, but freezes when the atmosphere in the room seems to violently shift. Clarke's brow furrows when she catches the tense glance that Storm and the healer share and she immediately grows nervous, worried for Willow's safety.

"What is it? Is Willow okay?" Clarke asks, her voice betraying her panic as she lifts the screaming infant into her arms. Neither man answers. Clarke holds Willow close, attempting to comfort the distressed child. "Storm?" Clarke asks, her tone sharp enough to pull Storm out of his stare down with the healer.

"I must go and fetch Heda," Storm says, his dark eyes suddenly sad. Clarke panics, and she moves to stand between Storm and the door, determined to find out what is bothering the men.

"Is she okay?" Clarke asks again, her voice growing stern. She refuses to be blown off. Storm sighs, scrubbing his face with his hand, clearly reluctant to offer an explanation. It is not his place.

"Willow is fine, Clarke," Storms says. "Please stay here until I bring Heda." Clarke doesn't immediately move out of Storm's way, merely staring at him, her eyes filled with warning. "I promise," Storm says. Clarke's eyes narrow into an intense glare, but she steps aside to let Storm leave.

Clarke sighs heavily, gently swaying with Willow and feeling relieved when it seems to settle her a little. One of Willow's tiny fists clings to Clarke's shirt, her face buried in Clarke's neck as she sniffles. She's certainly feeling extremely sorry for herself. Clarke rubs Willow's back as she begins to pace with her, eventually settling into a chair.

Clarke feels restless, and doesn't particularly want to sit down, but it's just more comfortable to have Willow in her lap. Clarke feels awkward on her own with the healer, whose name she still does not know. She wants ask questions, but she can tell that no answers will be given until Lexa is here. It's infuriating and frustrating, but Clarke understands. Lexa is the commander, and Willow's guardian.

"I need to check your head, Sky Girl," the healer says, but Clarke frowns at him. She shakes her head, scowling. There is no way Clarke is going to allow the healer to distract her from the current situation. As far as Clarke is concerned, Willow comes first. Clarke's wound can be checked once she knows for sure that Willow is okay.

They fall into silence again, the seconds turning into agonizing minutes. Clarke finds herself anticipating Lexa's arrival even more so than the healer. She can pretend that it is purely for Willow, the now calm child's sake, but that isn't the whole truth. Clarke wants to see Lexa for her own reasons, too.

Yes, Clarke wants Lexa here. Lexa's presence will calm her. Lexa's presence won't calm the healer, though. His terrified expression tells Clarke that.

It seems like they are waiting forever for Lexa to arrive, but it's probably only ten minutes at most. Willow is completely calm by the time the cabin door is thrown open, and her little face lights up when she catches sight of Storm. Storm, however, looks incredibly grave as he follows Lexa inside. Lexa's expression is dark, darker than Clarke has ever seen it, and she has seen Lexa during some hard times. Lexa only spares Willow and Clarke a glance before she rounds on the healer.

Lexa looks downright livid, her eyes a brighter green than usual and her nostrils flared. Her angry gaze is fixed on the healer, and Clarke actually finds herself feeling bad for the guy. Clarke had never really been affected by Lexa's anger, in fact she used to thrive on being able to piss her off, but Clarke isn't entirely convinced that the healer will survive this situation.

"You performed the test without my consent?" Lexa's voice is quiet; dangerous.

"Forgive me, Heda. The law states that those related to _Natblidas_ must be tested," the healer says, attempting to save himself from Lexa's wrath.

"That is not _my_ law," Lexa hisses, taking a step closer to the terrified healer. "You dare perform a test on a child when their guardian is not present?!"

At this, the healer falters. His gaze flits between Clarke and Lexa, too afraid to further his defense. They both catch what he means, though, and Clarke immediately feels awkward. It's obvious that the healer has wrongly assumed Clarke is Willow's guardian, and Lexa doesn't rush to correct him. She merely stares at Willow, concerned about the results of the test. The test that Clarke doesn't know anything about.

"Heda is the child's guardian," Storm says, his tone formal. Clarke notices that Storm looks nervous, and she realizes that Lexa is unimpressed with him, too. Storm had allowed the test to take place without Lexa's presence. Perhaps he had also assumed that Clarke's presence would be enough.

The healer looks confused, as though he has been told otherwise. Clarke fidgets slightly, pulling Willow closer to her chest. Willow seems comforted by Clarke's hold, but, this time, Clarke doesn't feel comforted by Willow in the slightest.

"Leave us," Lexa suddenly snaps, sending the healer rushing into one of the other rooms. "I said nothing of the test, Storm," Lexa says, her gaze hard as she turns to face her warrior. "A check up was all that I required." Storm bows his head.

"My apologies, Heda." Storm doesn't say anything else. He merely accepts the anger and disappointment aimed at him. Lexa studies him for a moment before nodding. His apology and show of respect seems to appease her.

When Lexa's eyes eventually meet Clarke's, they soften. There's a sadness in Lexa's eyes that confuses Clarke. Storm had promised that Willow would be fine, but Lexa's expression tells a different story.

Lexa moves across the room to where Clarke and Willow are seated, and she kneels down in front of them. Lexa doesn't miss Clarke's sharp intake of breath, but she actively avoids acknowledging it. Gently, Lexa takes Willow's foot in her hand and inspects the tiny dot on the heel. Her thumb softly brushes the mark, and her heart sinks.

Lexa had hoped that the healer was mistaken, but he most definitely isn't wrong. Lexa sighs, lifting her gaze to meet Clarke's confused eyes. Clarke doesn't need to speak for Lexa to understand her.

It takes a long moment for Lexa to find the strength to break the eye contact. Lexa doesn't think she could ever truly live without those baby blue eyes, and she doesn't want to look away from them. An awkward cough from behind her reminds Lexa that they are not alone, and she stands so quickly that the room spins for a second.

"Leave us," Lexa says to Storm, "and take Willow to Eden."

"Yes, Heda."

Lexa watches Clarke for signs of protests, but no protest happens. Lexa is pleased that Clarke seems to trust her, and it causes her heart to flutter ever so slightly in her chest. Lexa waits patiently for Storm to collect Willow into his arms and leave.

A glance behind her tells Lexa that the healer is out of earshot. He knows better.

"Lexa?" Clarke saying her name is all Lexa needs to move forward. She knows what Clarke is asking, and she intends to answer. Clarke deserves to know. Lexa nods, pulling her dagger from her sheaf. "What are you doing?!" Clarke abruptly stands, her eyes widening when Lexa presses the tip of the dagger into her own finger.

"It is best to show you, Clarke," Lexa says. She holds out her finger for Clarke to inspect, and she watches Clarke carefully. Lexa isn't surprised by Clarke's gasp.

"Your blood... it's..." Clarke trails off, unsure of what to say. She merely stares at Lexa, her eyes questioning.

" _Natblida_ ," Lexa says, her voice soft. "Nightblood. It is hereditary...goes back to the first commander," she explains. "When one who posseses this blood is found, they are brought here to be trained."

"Trained? To be your warriors?" Clarke still doesn't fully understand. Lexa shakes her head.

"To become the next commander," Lexa corrects her. Clarke frowns, her stomach dropping.

"And Willow is...?"

"Yes," Lexa says, nodding. "I'd like to show you something, Clarke. Will you come with me?" Clarke is surprised that she has been given a choice and she realizes, now more than ever, that Lexa truly does not wish to force her into anything. If it wasn't so dangerous for Clarke to be outside of Polis, she knows that Lexa would allow her to leave.

"I will," Clarke nods. Lexa offers her a small smile, so small that the corner of her mouth barely moves, but Clarke can see it. And she thinks it's the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Very well."

Lexa doesn't wait for another response before she marches fowards, startling Clarke as she rushes after Lexa. Clarke isn't surprised by the cluster of guards that are waiting outside, but she _is_ surprised by the polite smile she receives from one of them. Clarke doesn't think she will ever get used to the kindness that many of Lexa's people offer her.

Lexa walks too quickly for Clarke to be able to walk alongside her, but Clarke kind of enjoys watching Lexa lead her people. Even as they walk on the uneven ground that leads into the forest, Lexa's strides are graceful and elegant, and her head is held high. Clarke can't take her eyes off of her; she's just too fucking majestic.

As they get closer to the tree line, Lexa's guards spread out in several directions, disappearing into the forest. It makes Clarke wonder just how often people are being watched without even knowing it. It's oddly comforting to know how sneaky Lexa's warriors and guards can be. As long as they are on her side, of course.

Clarke silently follows Lexa into the trees, frowning at the yelling she can hear from within the forest. The yelling sounds like war cries, but there's no trace of real anger in the voices. The voices sound young, too, and Clarke doesn't know what to make of it. The closer they get to the voices, the more apprehensive Clarke becomes. She can hear what sounds like wood hitting wood, and her brow furrows.

"Relax, Clarke," Lexa says, glancing back at her; sensing Clarke's discomfort. "There is nothing to be concerned about." Lexa sounds so sure of herself that Clarke can't bring herself to doubt her. Clarke nods, but Lexa doesn't see it as she is already looking straight ahead again.

They reach a small clearing, and Clarke doesn't miss the way that Lexa's spine straightens. Lexa seems to be making herself taller, and there's something regal about the way she marches into the clearing. Clarke feels completely uncoordinated compared to Lexa.

Clarke gasps, stopping on the edge of the clearing. She's not sure what she had actually been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. There are several young teenagers sparring in the clearing. They're using wooden sticks to attack, and defend against, the other child they are paired with.

Lexa holds up her hand for Clarke to hang back, unwilling to bring Clarke into the midst of so many intense fights. Her eyes roam over the youngsters before finally landing on her mentor, Titus. He's looking particularly smug today, as he watches over the nightbloods, so Lexa knows the teenagers have done well with their training.

The fights all come to a halt when they realize their Heda is watching and Lexa motions for Clarke to join her.

"Are you ready to meet my _natblidas_ , Clarke?" There's a glint in Lexa's eyes that Clarke has never seen before.

"I am," Clarke says, nodding firmly. Clarke appreciates that Lexa walks slower this time, and she sticks by Lexa's side as they cross the clearing. Clarke watches as the teenagers crowd around Lexa, each one dropping to their knees when Lexa stops. It is clear from their awed expressions that they all idolize Lexa.

"Heda." A blonde kid, who looks no older than thirteen, is the first to speak. He nods respectfully, his head remaining bowed even after Lexa has motioned for them to stand.

"Aden," Lexa says in greeting. "Wanheda and I are here to watch your training." Clarke is surprised to realize that she doesn't find the name offensive this time. The way Lexa says it makes it sound different somehow. Lexa uses it as a term of respect and endearment... a way to show Clarke her appreciation.

"Sha, Heda," Aden nods. "Wanheda," he says, bowing his head in Clarke's direction. Clarke has barely enough time to offer Aden a small smile before he quickly leads his fellow nightbloods back to their respective fights. Clarke sighs heavily, attracting Lexa's inquisitive gaze.

"You have questions," Lexa says. It's not a question, merely an acknowledgment.

"How do you decide which one of them becomes the next commander?" Clarke asks, and she immediately regrets asking when Lexa's eyes fill with sorrow.

"There will be a conclave after my death," Lexa begins. Clarke's stomach twists, just the idea of Lexa dying makes her want to throw up. "They will fight and the remaining _natblida_ will become the next commander on their ascension day. My spirit will choose my replacement and guide the best _natblida_ towards victory."

Lexa hates to see Clarke's horrified expression, but she's not surprised to see it. Clarke looks like she is having some kind of internal battle and Lexa knows what it's about; Willow. Lexa looks away, focusing on nothing in particular amongst the trees.

"What if they don't want to fight?" Lexa hears Clarke ask and she sighs through her nose, knowing that Clarke is going to hate her answer. But, Clarke wants answers, and answers she shall have.

"It is considered treason," is Lexa's simple response. Lexa doesn't offer anymore explanation as she can tell that Clarke no longer wishes to hear details. Clarke looks pale, almost sick, and she offers very little explanation as she walks away from Lexa.

Lexa watches Clarke leave with a heavy heart. Lexa wants nothing more than to chase after Clarke, but she can't do that. Not in front of her warriors and nightbloods, and especially not in front of Titus. She's in no mood to hear one of his _love is weakness_ lectures today. Perhaps, right now, it would make things worse to follow Clarke anyway. It's best that she just oversees the training as planned.

Lexa clasps her hands together behind her back, standing stiffly as her nightbloods show off their skills. Her chest feels tight, and it aches as she imagines Willow one day participating in this training. Lexa pictures Willow, sword aloft and her wild curls tamed by braids.

Lexa despises the thought of her baby cousin having to go through the same pain that Lexa has. Having to live and train with her fellow _natblidas_ , growing to love them even against her better judgement, only to face them in a fight to the death.

Lexa vividly remembers each death she caused in her conclave, knowing each one will haunt her dreams until her own death. She remembers having to stand there, spine straight and head high, accepting the many congratulations as though her heart wasn't splintering inside her chest.

No, she doesn't wish for Willow to go through that. Lexa barely accepts that Aden, who she assumes will win his conclave, will need to suffer that pain, but Willow... No, that is the last thing she wants for her.

How is Lexa supposed to stand by and watch Willow train to hopefully become commander? How can she pretend that it doesn't affect her? There's no way Clarke will quietly step aside and allow Willow to be handed a sword and sent into battle against her peers. Lexa won't blame Clarke when she inevitably breaks the rules to stop this from happening to Willow. Instead, she will feel the same.

Luckily, Lexa has time. She can find a way to keep Willow away from that life that won't cause a revolt amongst the clans. Change is possible; Lexa just needs to work out how.

Yes, even if it is the last thing Lexa does, she will ensure that Willow's life is different; better.

 **To be continued... If you have any questions, MinionKomSkaikru on Tumblr :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Clarke actively ignores the guards that had been following her since the clearing and rushes into her bedroom. The heavy door bangs obnoxiously as she slams it behind her, but Clarke doesn't care. She slides down the closed door and slumps down onto the floor, leaning back against the door. Her chest feels restricted and Clarke focuses all of her energy on controlling her breathing. It's hard, though, as all Clarke can think about are those kids that will have to fight to the death at some point, and how Willow may have to do the same.

It kills her. Absolutely kills her. Just thinking about what could happen in the future makes bile threaten to rise in her throat. The image of children being forced to kill other children so as to gain the right to be commander, and the image of them having to do so because Lexa has died is just too much to bear. Clarke hasn't known Lexa for very long, but the thought of living in a world that Lexa no longer exists in is heart breaking. It's not a world Clarke wishes to live in.

What would happen to Polis without Lexa? Or Clarke's people? Or Willow? Clarke shudders. She attempts to think of something else, of something happy, of something that doesn't break her heart. It's hard, though, and Clarke squeezes her eyes closed, focusing only on the cacophony of bright colours that float inside her closed eyelids.

It's strange, but it comforts Clarke. It always has. Clarke remembers being a very small child and doing this whenever she felt scared. The burst of many different colours always looked so pretty, and soothing. It always seemed to ground her, settle her; remind her of what's important.

Clarke opens her eyes, blinking away the spots that she suddenly sees. It doesn't work this time; it doesn't take away her fears. She sighs, dropping her head backwards so that it hits against the door with an audible thump. Clarke knows that she'll need to face this, and soon, but she's happy to just sit here for a few moments and enjoy the tranquility.

There's no easy fix to this mess, but that doesn't matter. Clarke isn't going to let Willow be led into this life, and she's pretty sure that Lexa won't either. Lexa may be the commander, and set in her ways, but Clarke doesn't think Lexa will allow Willow to go through this. Clarke had, after all, witnessed Lexa's expression when Lexa found out about Willow's night blood. Lexa hadn't been pleased. No, Lexa had looked devastated, as though Willow being a night blood was the last thing she wanted. Perhaps it was.

Clarke sighs, still unable to stand up, and she throws her fist down onto the floor. A searing pain flows across her knuckles, blood trickling from the broken skin, but Clarke can't bring herself to clean herself up. All she can focus on is the bright red blood that seeps across her pale skin, and realize how different from Lexa and Willow she is.

Her life, as hard as it has been, is so different. Sure, she is expected to look after a group of people, some that she barely knows, but her life does not depend on keeping those people happy. Lexa's, and inevitably Willow's, does.

The loud knock on the door behind her head drags Clarke from her thoughts, and she sighs heavily. One minute. That's all she wants; one fucking minute. Clarke moves away from the door and settles her tired body on a nearby chair.

"Yes?" she calls out, failing to hide the exhaustion in her voice. She no longer cares; they can know she is tired.

The door opens, and Clarke isn't surprised to see Eden standing in the doorway, a struggling Willow in her arms. Clarke forces a smile onto her face, for Eden's sake, but it passes only as a grimace. Eden notices, but Willow doesn't. The infant merely looks thrilled to see Clarke, her pudgy little arms shooting out in an attempt to reach Clarke.

"I was told you were back, Wanheda," Eden says, bowing ever so slightly, but impeded by the active child in her arms. "I guessed you would wish to see Willow."

Clarke hates to hear such formality from someone as young as Eden, but she doesn't correct her. Eden has been raised in this way; it would be unfair for Clarke to ignore that.

"Thank you, Eden," Clarke says. "You were right, I've missed her." Clarke smiles kindly at Eden as she takes Willow into her arms, feeling suddenly warmed by the excited cries from Willow. Clarke doesn't miss how exhausted Eden looks and she immediately feels bad for the kid. "Have you eaten?" Clarke asks as she draws Willow into her arms, softening as Willow snuggles into her.

Eden is surprised by the question, but she hides it well; mostly.

"Yes, ma'am, I have," Eden says, nodding politely. "Willow has, too."

"Good," Clarke nods. "You should rest before the celebration," she says. Eden looks surprised that Clarke has taken over Willow's care, but she doesn't dare question Wanheda.

"Sha, Wanheda," Eden says. "You may call me if you need me." Clarke nods, offering Eden the biggest smile she can muster, which isn't big at all, before bidding the young girl goodbye. Clarke is relieved when Eden leaves, glad that she doesn't have to keep up some sort of pretence.

"Looks like it's just you and me, little one," Clarke says to Willow. Willow lays her head on Clarke's shoulder, seemingly happy to be back in her arms. Clarke smiles, comforted by the trust that Willow exhibits.

It's nice to have someone in her life who trusts her and doesn't question her at every opportunity. Clarke feels like Camp Jaha is a million miles away, and it offers her some relief. There's nobody truly begging for her help, and then criticising her decisions at every point.

Nobody's life is dependent on Clarke at this very moment, perhaps for the first time since she landed on Earth. It's nice. Despite the horrible circumstances Clarke is still surrounded by, it's like she is on a break. A much needed, and well earned, break at that.

Clarke moves across the room and carefully places Willow into the crib; Lexa's crib. She expects Willow to protest, but no protest comes. It seems that Willow is just as exhausted as Clarke. Clarke is relieved. It means she has a chance to rest, too.

She's so tired that if it wasn't for Storm's kindness, Clarke would have decided to just ditch the celebration tonight. She just can't bring herself to do so, though. Storm has been Clarke's one and only friend since Mt. Weather, and Clarke wishes to return the favour and offer him some support tonight.

Clarke slumps onto her large bed, ignoring the pain at the back of her head and sighing heavily. She has, at her best guess, a couple of hours until the wedding, and Clarke plans to spend most of it in bed. She's so beyond exhausted that sleep actually feels like a foreign concept to her.

The furs on her bed envelope her, pulling Clarke further towards sleep much faster than she had anticipated. The rest, that Clarke had been so desperate for, soon becomes reality. Even Willow seems to understand that her caretaker needs rest, and stays fast asleep.

...

 _Blood. Blisters. Screaming. Clarke can't escape the sights and sounds. No matter how hard she tries. People litter the floor, their bodies charred and lifeless._

 _Jasper stares at Clarke from beside Maya's body, his dark eyes full of hate and remorse. He's yelling at her, but Clarke can't make out the words. Which is, perhaps, a good thing._

 _A hand grasps at Clarke's ankle, fingers digging painfully into her flesh. Wide, terrified eyes stare up at her, desperate features pleading with her to help. It's too late, though. It's done. The radiation is everywhere._

Clarke's eyes flick open and she springs upwards, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow. Her breathing is ragged and she looks around wildly. Clarke takes in her surroundings, reminding herself that she is no longer at the mountain. She's in Polis, she's safe and no one is hurting. It's just a bad dream... a memory of the past.

These dreams are nothing new, they happen every night, but it never gets easier. At least, not yet. Hopefully in time the dreams will stop, or at least happen less. Clarke doesn't need the dreams to remember what happened at Mt. Weather. She doesn't think she will ever forget even the tiny details, no matter how much time will pass.

Willow stirs ever so slightly, and Clarke holds her breath, sighing in relief when Willow simply shifts and closes her eyes again. Clarke watches silently, wishing she could feel as calm and peaceful as Willow seems to.

Clarke's chest heaves, tears leaking down her cheeks. She's just so damn tired, but no matter how much she sleeps, Clarke still doesn't feel rested.

No matter how tired she feels, Clarke still doesn't wish to go back to sleep. Her dreams make her feel as though she would be better off just not sleeping at all. Lexa would probably not approve of this plan, though, and Clarke is just too exhausted to argue with the commander.

She reasons that she can always try and get some rest again in a little while. That way Clarke can allow herself to calm down, and escape her dreams, but also stop Lexa from worrying.

Clarke rises from the bed and quietly pads across her new bedroom, the smooth stone cold beneath her feet. Clarke comes to a stop in front of the large window, allowing herself to become tangled in the soft drapes.

She breathes in deeply, relishing the cold, crisp air that fills her lungs. Polis is laid out below her like a beautiful painting, the city buzzing with activity in the late afternoon light. Clarke can understand why Lexa loves her city so much. Clarke has never seen anything like it, and she doubts she ever will.

Clarke sighs, sinking into the overstuffed chair next to the window. Tears sting the corners of her eyes, unable to stop thoughts of her own home from entering her mind.

The ark had never been as grand and beautiful as Polis, but it was special in its own way; a miracle of engineering. Clarke's life there had been good, at least for a while. And her father, her sweet, kind father that she idolised so much... he had been there.

Life had been so simple on the ark. For years before her father's execution, and before the air began to run out, it had been a peaceful existence amongst the stars. At least it has felt so at the time.

Clarke tilts her head back and allows her eyes to close, smiling as her father's playful grin appears in front of her. Clarke wonders if he would be proud of her. If he would understand Clarke's actions on the ground.

In the back of her mind, hiding beneath all of her doubt and insecurities, Clarke just knows that Jake Griffin still has her back.

"Clarke?"

Clarke jumps, her heart suddenly racing as her eyes snap open. She hadn't even realised that she had fallen asleep, but a glance towards the now dark sky confirms that she had.

"Lexa?" Clarke can barely hide her surprise at the sight of Lexa in her ceremonial outfit. Lexa's dress, and her different war paint that is a straight line across her eyes, causes Clarke's breath to catch in her throat. To Clarke, Lexa always looks good, but tonight she looks downright beautiful. Clarke has never seen Lexa look like this before, but she likes it.

"Clarke, are you alright?" Lexa doesn't bother to hide her concern. Clarke doesn't immediately reply, her voice stuck in her throat as she admires the sight in front of her. Lexa looks almost embarrassed, as though Clarke's scrutiny is too much for her, but she does her best to hide it. It's pointless, though, as Clarke has always seemed to be able to read Lexa like a book.

Both of them know it. Clarke wishes to compliment her, to tell Lexa how wonderful she looks, but she knows Lexa would rather she didn't. Instead, Clarke merely offers Lexa a blinding smile; hoping Lexa will get the message.

"Yes, Lexa, I'm fine," Clarke says, realising that she should probably say something and, perhaps, stop staring at Lexa. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." Lexa nods, relieved that Clarke is okay.

"It's good that you did," Lexa says. "Sleep will help to build your strength. You do not need to join the celebration if you would prefer to rest some more," Lexa adds. "Storm would understand." Clarke smiles, but shakes her head.

"I would like to go," Clarke says. "Is that why you're here?" Clarke doesn't mean to sound abrupt, but she somehow manages to anyway. If it throws Lexa a little, she doesn't allow it to show. Lexa does, however, suddenly seem a little shy. It's kind of cute, but Clarke isn't going to tell Lexa that.

"I..uh.." Lexa nervously clears her throat, and Clarke finds it endearing as hell. "I thought we could attend Storm's union together," Lexa says. "I had someone create a dress for you, if you wish to wear it."

"I would," Clarke nods. "I didn't exactly have anything packed for a union," Clarke says, chuckling. Clarke finds herself growing nervous under Lexa's intense gaze, as though those green eyes could see into her soul and read her thoughts. "Maybe I could try it on," Clarke adds, suddenly avoiding Lexa's gaze.

"Of course," Lexa says, nodding. Lexa waves her hand and, as if out of nowhere, a young woman appears; dress in her arms. "I shall wait," Lexa says. Clarke nods, and she is surprised when Lexa approaches the crib and carefully lifts Willow from it. Lexa, as far as Clarke knows, has never held Willow before, and it warms her heart to see Lexa's strong arms wrap around the infant.

Clarke smiles as she watches two pairs of identical eyes check the other one out, two heads tilting inquisitively. Clarke doesn't think she has ever witnessed a more adorable sight in her life. Lexa looks comfortable, more comfortable than Clarke expected, with Willow in her arms, and Willow seems content.

Clarke doesn't know what has caused Lexa's sudden desire to show Willow affection, but she doesn't question it. Clarke actually feels like she is intruding on a special moment, so she is glad that the young woman with the dress is attempting to urge her from the room.

Clarke hears Lexa quietly speak as she leaves the room, but Clarke can't quite catch what she says. Lexa's tone of voice alone, though, is enough to melt Clarke's heart and she wishes she could just watch Lexa interact with Willow all day, every day.

Yes, Lexa Kom Trikru, commander of the 12 clans has well and truly won the heart of the girl from the sky. And she doesn't even know it yet.

...

Clarke bounces Willow on her lap as she sits at a quiet table, well away from the rowdy crowd of inebriated grounders. She can only make out a few of their faces from her place in the shadows, but Clarke is sure that she can see Ash playfully sparring with a little girl in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. It's nice to see the more relaxed version of the warrior.

Clarke can see Lexa discussing something with one of her warriors on the opposite side of the clearing, and she smiles at how radiant Lexa looks. Clarke's breath hitches when Lexa's head tilts ever so slightly, knowing that Lexa is looking straight back at her. The more time she spends around Lexa, the more Clarke falls for her.

They hold each other's gaze for an agonising moment, before Clarke forces her eyes away from Lexa's. Her blue eyes roam the remaining crowd, watching as many of the grounders dance along to the harp and woodwind instruments being continuously played by the talented band.

Despite the pain she is in, both physically and mentally, Clark can't keep the smile from her lips. She is well and truly besotted with the ongoing party happening around her. The entire grounder celebration had been monumental and gorgeous, and everyone looks genuinely happy. Storm and his beautiful new wife had already left a while ago, but still the celebration continues. Even Lexa seems to be relaxing a little bit and allowing herself to enjoy the evening.

Lexa had, however, handed Willow back to Clarke as soon as they left the privacy of the tower. The commander mask had slipped back onto Lexa's face long before her people could catch sight of her. She had lightened up a little as the night wore on, and Clarke found it hilarious that Lexa had refused a second mead.

Clarke didn't say this to Lexa, but she knows that the mead had gone straight to the commander's head, hence the reason she had switched to water instead. Lexa's flushed face had endlessly amused Clarke and Storm, but neither were too loud about the great and mighty Heda's inability to handle alcohol.

"Wanheda?" Clarke is drawn from her thoughts by a small voice, and she is surprised to find Aden standing so close to her. "I hope I am not disturbing you." Aden looks nervous about approaching Clarke, but Clarke feels like she may be even more nervous than he is.

"No, it's okay," Clarke says, attempting to sound as reassuring as she can. "How are you, Aden?" The boy looks positively thrilled that Clarke has remembered his name, but she can tell he is trying to hide it.

"I am well, Wanheda. Thank you." Clarke smiles, unable to dislike her formal title when it comes from a child who is showing so much respect towards her.

"What can I do for you, Aden?" Clarke's question is gentle, but probing. She doesn't miss that he blushes ever so slightly and it makes her smile. "I'm happy to help you if I can," Clarke says, smiling warmly at the young teenager. Aden bows his head, appreciative of Clarke's kindness.

"May I hold Willow?" Clarke is surprised by Aden's question, but she does her best not to show it.

"Of course," Clarke says, laughing lightly when Aden beams at her. Clarke chuckles as Aden gently takes Willow from her arms, treating the infant as though she is made of glass. It's adorable. Willow doesn't seem to mind being in Aden's arms at all, but her green eyes still remain fixed on the band playing beside the dance floor. Not for the first time tonight, Willow wiggles her little body along to the music.

"She looks like Heda," Aden says, pulling Clarke from her thoughts. Clarke merely nods, unsure of what she can and cannot say to the boy. "Hopefully she will be strong like Heda, too. Maybe Willow will be a fine warrior." Clarke's stomach lurches and she immediately feels uncomfortable.

"Perhaps," Clarke says, humouring the boy purely to hide her own discomfort.

"If not, I will protect her," Aden tells her. His young face is determined, almost fierce, and Clarke cannot doubt his sincerity.

"Willow will surely be the safest child in Polis then." Clarke whips around when she hears Lexa's voice. She hadn't heard the commander approach. "Perhaps you should retire for the evening, Aden. Titus would not approve if you are not at your best during training tomorrow," Lexa says. She sounds like she is giving Aden a choice, but that is most definitely not the case.

"Sha, Heda," Aden replies, his head tipping forward in automatic respect. He is careful as he hands Willow back to Clarke, his head dipping once more before he rushes off to do as his Commander has said.

"I do hope Aden wasn't disturbing," Lexa murmurs, her intense eyes carefully studying Clarke. "He means well."

"He wasn't," Clarke says, smiling at the fondness in Lexa's tone. She loves that Lexa doesn't bother to hide her care for the boy in front of her. It makes Clarke feel special. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"It's good to see Storm so happy," Lexa says quietly, choosing not to directly answer the question. Her head is still clear enough to be careful in front of her warriors...to not show too much personal feelings to Clarke whilst they are around.

"It is," Clarke nods. "I'm glad you came over," she quietly adds, only for Lexa's ears. "I'm sure Willow is, too."

"As am I," Lexa whispers, the faintest of smiles playing on her full lips. "You should know, Clarke, that your people are close. They should be here by morning," Lexa says, suddenly sounding a little unsure of herself. Nervous, almost.

Clarke nods, unable to form any kind of verbal response. It's as though she is under some kind of spell; the sudden vulnerability in Lexa's eyes throwing her for a loop. She can tell that Lexa is somewhat concerned about the arrival of so many of Clarke's people, worried that it won't be as peaceful as they hope.

And, honestly? Clarke is, too.

 **More soon...**


End file.
